Sunrise
by CalliopeMused
Summary: [IP again] A pair of blooddrenched ballet slippers. A girl who loves someone from afar. A spoiled boy, termed a man only by his age. A witch who hopes to rid herself of a threat. Not all stories end at midnight. For the Little Mermaid, it was Sunrise.
1. Sunset

_There are no real copyrights to infringe on. Hans Christian Anderson included the original version of The Little Mermaid in his book of fairy tales. All characters are my own. That's all the formalities, and I won't be repeating them. One (1) cookie will be provided for each review. Each cookie is a figment of my imagination baked to perfection with melting chocolate chips (other varieties availible, for those with diabetes/allergies/no mouths- hey, it could happen). These cookies cannot get you out of jail free, let you pass go and collect $200, or be used as legal tender to finance your move to Canada. They will, hopefully, be the additional incentive (along with the warm fuzzies of making my day) that inspires reviewing. Thanks for reading._

* * *

The ocean's wild beauty was lost on a solitary figure. The waves were perfect, which was all that was really noticed, and the surfer felt like a professional with the easy-riding waves. Between white caps, the water was a crystalline blue-green shade that allowed a curious person to see deep into the water, should he care to look. The sun was beginning to set, trailing streaks of color across the waves. A pod of dolphins raced within an upcoming wave, making even this most disinterested of persons look at the sight. The surfer was careful to not bring a six-foot fiberglass board, created especially to reduce the risk of a shark thinking of seals or sea lions, too close to a swimming dolphin. The material was softer and lighter than most used in boards, to make sure a fallen surfer wasn't concussed by the board. Concussions were not good for solitary riders. 

The dolphins chattered in a large vocabulary of squeaks that humans had yet to comprehend. They sounded like wet rubber boots rubbing together, but any who took a good look at a dolphin knew that it was something more. Dolphins were the smartest beings in the sea, and were said to rival or surpass primates for mental capacity. All surfers knew of some story about dolphins, whether they fended off a shark, carried a drowning man to shore, or did some other incredible thing that people were too incredulous of themselves to report to the media for other skeptics to read.

Over the roar and hiss of the waves, he heard another sound. It wasn't the all-in bell of the beach, signaling a sudden change of weather or a shark sighting. It wasn't the squeak of dolphin-chatter. It was someone singing, the most beautiful sound the surfer had ever heard. The surfer paddled towards the source, following the current into a small cove. Curiosity could touch even the most disinterested of people, given the right inspiration.

He was drawing closer to the source of the beautiful music. All attention was absorbed in the song. He saw nothing but a hazy flash of brilliant blue light reflected from the singer, water blocking the song's origin from sight. She was female. That much he could figure out from the tone of the song. He didn't notice that the water had turned dark beneath him until a splash revealed that the droplets had a dark purple color.

Something wrapped around his back, biting into his skin harshly. He cried out, feeling something open sores on his back. Some strong force wrapped around him in tentacles that felt like iron bands, lifting him into the air as easily as a rag doll. Long strands covered in teeth-rounded mouths wrapped around him completely, leaving him unable to kick or struggle. He couldn't see anything but the flashes of light that his eyes created, and it had happened to quickly for him to notice the thinner ends of long tentacles that covered his face. The smallest of gaps allowed him to take shallow breaths, and for the first time in his life, he was hyperventilating. He needed air, and nothing he could do would gain that precious substance he had never before treasured.

He could feel himself being pulled into the water, until all but his neck and above was submerged in the ocean. He heard an angelic voice, beautiful enough to make him want more than anything to see the face that would match it. Was she an angel? She was the singer, she could tell. Close to unconsciousness, he decided she had come to give a final judgment, or bring him a miracle.

The slow progress of sinking into the ocean stopped. A sibilant hiss made some response, a low threatening sound that would make any shiver. He did. The cold voice seemed to belong to the owner of the tentacles. The pause in sinking made life something worth even more. The thing that held onto him would kill him given half a chance, and he was certain of that. He wasn't naïve enough to doubt that.

An argument ensued. The beautiful voice was pleading, and the cold voice was harsh and demanding. He could barely breathe, and had no light to tell if he was blacking out. He had to stay awake. Falling asleep meant he would certainly not wake again. Fighting, he remained conscious, even as he lost feeling to his limbs. Trying to distract himself from the numb of being asleep, he tried to count how many tentacles there were. He guessed two, but wasn't sure. His attacker was an octopus of some sort, but octopi didn't hiss. Did they attack surfers? He had never heard of such a thing. That sounded like a badly written tabloid story for a Tuesday following a dull weekend.

Just as he felt his lungs begin to burn from lack of air, the grip loosened. The grasping appendages relinquished their hold, but the salt water splashed into the wounds placed all over by whatever had gripped him. He yelled out again, unable to stop the reaction. He felt himself floating in the ocean, cuts burning like someone had lit them on fire.

His weakened body barely kept afloat, even with the buoyancy salt water gave. He felt himself stay dangerously low in the water. He still couldn't see, and could not feel his face to attempt opening his eyes. Gulping for air, he found a mouthful of salty water. He coughed and gagged, only getting more salt water into his lungs. He had heard that drowning was the slowest death, but had never tested that fact.

A pair of smooth arms wrapped around him, as one would hold a baby. They slipped under his arms and beneath his knees, cradling him so that his head remained safely above the water. He tried to say something, but his mouth couldn't form a syllable that would make sense, even if he could think of what to say.

Strong arms set him on a surfboard that he recognized as his own. He felt himself being pulled through the water, as quickly as a wave ran for shore. Coughing, he expelled sea water from his lungs. Each wave made him gasp, saltwater unkindly sinking into every cut. The surfboard scraped sand, and he found that breathing was harder than even before.

Lips that tasted of salt covered his, forcing air into his bruised lungs. Feeling a weak heartbeat from two fingers unceremoniously probing his neck, a few rough shoves on his chest were given to aid the heart's weak endeavors. More air was given, forced with strength from whoever was saving his life. The process was repeated until he breathed on his own, after a few muffled exclamations from whoever it was during the process. He kept coming dangerously close to blacking out, but knew that someone was there.

"You'll be fine," she assured him, the same voice that had fought with the giant whatever it had been. "You don't have to worry about that squid ever coming back for you."

He could feel the small waves lapping at his side, burning as painfully as ever. He tried to say something, anything. Who was she, what was her name, and why she had saved him came to mind, but would not come from his tongue.

"Shh," she soothed, putting a finger to his salt-chapped and bleeding lips. "Someone's coming for you now."

"Dogo," he mumbled, hoping she could catch the meaning.

She understood. "I have to. I'm late for something that has to be done. I never did mean to make that promise, but I'll keep it. It was no one's fault, really. Don't listen for me to sing again, Jesse. It's dangerous." There was some meaning to her words, he knew, but she was gone before he could ask a question that would help in puzzling it out.

Hearing his father's latest lover and agent screech his name, he finally relaxed, slipping into the welcome blackness of unconsciousness. He would be fine, now. His remembered that the girl had never given her name, and that he would like to know it. He didn't even have a crystal slipper to base his search on. The thought almost exhausted his mind, but he held on for just one final moment. His last thought before unconsciousness was that he had never told her his name.

An ambulance arrived within two minutes, just as twilight was taking hold of the sky. It was the time just before darkness fully took hold, when shadows were still clear. The hospital was always especially careful with celebrities promptly, as they really could not use such a public bad reputation. Paramedics raced to the beach, seeing a woman crying.

"What seems to be the trouble, ma'am?" one asked, looking around. This hardly looked to be an emergency involving Derek Dalton's only child. The speaking paramedic was a veteran of two wars as a medic, and was always mad to be bothered with trifles. If she had broken a nail, she would be fined. He would make sure of it.

"Him," she said, pointing down to the shore. She wouldn't go any closer. The sight was a bit too much. She never had liked the grisly, the macabre, or the disgusting. She preferred to look at the happier things in life, not harsher reality.

The first to speak when seeing their patient was the leader of the three. He had seen wounds in Vietnam that made anyone have nightmares. He had answered several calls for workplace shootings. But he had never seen anything like this. His only response was a single expletive.

The patient wore a wetsuit. There were several holes in it, revealing gross wounds that looked chewed on, which still were bleeding as he tried to assess injuries. There was no sand in his back on first examination, luckily, but his cuts were filled with salt. The area around his eyes, as well as his entire face, was swollen drastically, and he had another mark of chewing by some unknown attacker just three inches from the eyes.

His two crew members approached, gaping at the sight. At a barked command from the older man, who was still "breaking in" an intern and a first-year resident, they rolled over a gurney, with new wheels that supposedly would glide over sand. Surprisingly, the gurney lived up to its claims, and stopped neatly beside the shore and their patient. The victim was lifted gently, and drops of blood fell to the sand.

"Let's move," the man in charge snapped. The three paramedics, in a blur of efficiency, were gone in minutes, leaving behind a puzzled woman, two sets of tracks across the beach, the bloody imprint of a body, and the sound of an ambulance racing away, siren wailing at full blast. They had a serious case on their hands.

* * *

It was the heart monitor that woke him, its steady pattern of beeps disrupting the monotony of unconsciousness. He heard the steady sound of someone typing beside him, humming as she did so. 

"Candy?" Jesse Dalton asked. His voice was raw, but at least recognizable. No one else would hum so off-key. She was a decent singer, but only when someone reminded her which key she was supposed to be in.

She instantly turned, startled that he was awake. Candy Dunes was the daughter of Sandy Dunes, California's Favorite News Anchor for six consecutive years, as voted by the _Sacramento Daily_. "Jesse! It's about time you woke up. You were supposed to come over yesterday evening, but you never showed up. I talked to that bimbo your father brought home, and she looked out the window and saw you and some strange girl lying on the beach. She called me, panicking that she couldn't catch any real details, before running onto the beach screaming her head off. I called paramedics."

Candy sounded angry, but that wasn't unusual. She always was angry about something. Her parents forever criticized her wildly curling red hair that she refused to straighten or dye a more suitable color, and her gray-green eyes were unusual. That, to them, was bad enough, but Candy wanted to be a reporter. She was not interested in television broadcasting, what both of them were involved in. She wanted to be a newspaper journalist, to her mother's profound disappointment. Nikki Dunes was the celebrity expert of Sandy's news broadcast, and she and Sandy were partners in the station.

Candy had been worried. Jesse never had been enthusiastic about helping her develop a new compact breathing apparatus, but did help her more for company than anything else. Her machine converted salt water into usable air while disposing of exhaled gases. Jesse often complained it was boring, but was interested in the business aspects. They weren't the most compatible of friends, but they got along. They had to. Living in the isolated area away from a town, there was no one else to befriend, and both were standoffish from people who were not celebrities. Neither knew how to deal with the normal majority of the populace without being a complete brat, but Candy made an effort.

"I had to get out. Aisling was driving me nuts. Sorry that I lost track of time, but the waves were the best they've been in a long time." He tried opening his eyes, but they still weren't functioning. "I guess the last bit wasn't a hallucination."

Candy snorted. "What bit? The giant cephalopod that scientists have been trying to find for years that doesn't exist, according to the world's most revered marine biologist, or some gorgeous girl in a really funky wetsuit giving you the kiss of life? Aisling said that she had one that left her arms and neck free, a strapless one."

Jesse shrugged. "Both. What was it, exactly?" He was in no mood for scientific jargon, and felt oddly distant from what had happened. "What am I on, anyway?" He couldn't see his IVs, but something was messing with his mind.

"A giant squid attacked you. Saying it was giant would be repetitive, but it was humungous. The biologist is already gone, and guesses from the size of the welts you have all over that it had forty-foot tentacles. The two hand-like things on it grabbed you, so that's where all the holes came from. You're on morphine, if you must know. You had so much salt in you that the doctors took two hours to get it all out, and said that you never would have made it five feet in the ocean unless someone had pulled you, so they believe Aisling's story." Always a reporter, Candy likely knew more than the doctors.

"What happened?"

Candy was prepared for this question, after spending fifteen minutes with the expert. "The doctors and the biologist analyzed the circles. The thing grabbed on, picked you up, and held you just out of the water. Then, the mystery leviathan let go, and you ended up, with the help of the unknown woman, just where the waves ended, getting CPR from the rescuer figure."

"That sounds about right," he agreed. "Mystery girl was there when the squid was. I couldn't tell you what she did, but the monster let go. She picked me up and put me on the board. I never did see her."

Candy knew what he was too hesitant to ask. They had been friends even before moving to houses next door to each other, even if there was two hundred yards of space. They both had been pulled from public school after fifth grade, when Jesse had almost been killed by a religious nut who protested his father's last movie. Sandy had agreed that public school might be hazardous, as he had promoted that movie, so the two had been home schooled through interactive distance learning classes.

"Your eyes will be fine. The mouth-bit was a few inches away. You'll be glaring again in a few days." She made the serious topic into a joke, knowing that he would be uncomfortable with such a discussion.

He was relieved, but gave no obvious sign. "So, did you ever figure out the gas release valve?" She had been planning to work on that when she invited him over.

"Nah, I was too busy thinking that you'd be dying on me. I hate funerals, you know," she complained. Only a friend would know that there was concern behind her sarcasm. He knew, and would say the same thing if roles were reversed. "You could try being more considerate. At least let me know ahead of time if you plan on nearly dying."

The doctor walked in, hearing the voice of her patient. She was the most distinguished doctor in the hospital, and was irritated that she always had to leave more serious injuries for some movie star's brat with a greenstick break in an arm. She had yet to review his case, but it always helped that celebrities saw her checking on her kids.

"What seems to be the trouble?" she asked, hiding a yawn expertly. The large amounts of bandages didn't mean a serious case. Nurses were usually unnecessarily exuberant in bandaging famous patients. It was probably some small scrape.

"I'll let Candy take that one. Morphine doesn't give me confidence in my answer." He had already reverted to the distant personality needed whenever someone with contact to the press was needed. If he harbored any such things, he hid any thoughts that a female doctor would be inferior. Candy would kill him for less.

"He had a tangle with a giant cephalopod. Instead of the more usual suction apparati, it had circular rows of teeth. Like a lamprey's, I believe," she said quickly. She had once wanted to be a marine biologist, and had taken everything possible from her short time with a known expert. She had guessed that a lamprey would be similar, from pictures.

The doctor actually smiled. She remembered him now. He had been in daily when Candy Dunes had a tonsillectomy, providing disgusting anecdotes and charming the nurses, all at the age of seven. That had been ten years ago, almost exactly. He had been more careful around doctors, she remembered. She had always heard that he was spoiled, but wondered if he still could be a nice kid. Celebrities' children did lead a tough life, no matter how rich and famous they happened to be.

"So you're the kid with the freaky case. Did you notice any details?"

"The thing got me with just two of the tentacles, long ones with the teeth things at the hand bits. I don't have as many scientific terms, but Candy would know, if you need it translated." He didn't mention the bit about a talking squid. There was no reason to have his head checked. "I wasn't paying too much attention. I was trying to find some girl who was singing. The squid inked the water, and I only saw the tentacles for a second. They were really dark purple, I think."

The doctor kept an entirely straight face while reading another excerpt. Glancing at what she was looking over, Candy didn't bother hiding her grin. Jesse couldn't see her expression, after all. "Ever see this girl?" the doctor asked, ready to make a note.

"No. She was saying something when the monster let go, then she put me on my surfboard and towed me back to shore. I was having a bit of trouble breathing." Even he did blush, in the knowing gaze of his only friend and a doctor that was one of his friend's heroes, no one could have observed it below layers of bandages.

"So, she was the administrator of CPR," the doctor said smoothly, deciding not to give the kid any grief. "Any description on her?"

"I never saw her. I could recognize her voice if I heard it again, though."

Candy decided to add to his description. "It had to have forty-foot tentacles- the squid, at least, according to Dr. Stern." She seemed to say the biologist's name reverently, but quickly moved on. "His father's current girlfriend," she continued carefully, "said that the girl wore a strapless and armless wetsuit, and that her hair was dark. But, as she would have been soaking wet at the time, that's not very helpful."

"Dr. Grey," a new voice said, one used to being noticed. "So glad you could be here. How is my son?" Derek Dalton, known as the Daredevil for his on and off-stage acting, was a formidable figure. He had won two Best Actor Academy Awards, and did not care who knew it. The one thing he didn't sound was nervous.

"He'll be home in a week," the doctor promised. "I'll just leave the two of you for a minute. The bandages over his eyes will be gone by the time he's home." Dr. Grey left the room, managing to not trip. She had forgotten for a second exactly why Jesse Dalton was a celebrity, and she did like Derek Dalton, both as an actor and as one of the largest contributors to the local Salvation Army, of which she was treasurer. For the first time, she thought that working with a celebrity may not be so bad.


	2. Gilt Silence

Hospital stays were usually boring events. But for the only child of a movie star, a stay in the hospital provided many amenities not even the four-star hotels his father frequented offered. He had a nurse almost constantly, all young giggly ones who asked for his autograph and snapped pictures while he smiled the classic grin already termed a Dalton smile. He was no stranger to photographs, and his father had even shown him the best ways to make sure pictures didn't come out wrong. For the son of a movie star, image was everything. A charming personality and charisma aided by the expectations of others helped, but it was never amiss to make all perfect.

His eyes had healed quickly. Before the bandages were removed, he flirted with the nurses he couldn't see and listened to music. Comedy television left little to subtle body motion, so he had something to listen to. Occasionally, he just used the small MP3 player that he had received straight from Japan, a prototype with contoured controls that could literally be operated blindly. His father had used his wealth to an advantage, buying into up-and-coming technology before others knew it existed, and Jesse enjoyed the advantages.

The reason he was in the hospital was never officially mentioned. The doctors knew that no tabloid was to pick up on the story, or someone would be fired to compensate for lawsuits. Candy had agreed to not breathe a word to her editors at the magazine she worked for, settling with an exclusive interview about his father's next movie. Both benefited from such interviews. Derek's movie had a free promotion, and Candy could prove that she would report on anything, not just the serious news and preferred assignments. There were questions about bias, but Derek Dalton was popular enough that there were very few derogatory letters.

The week went by quickly. The sores healed, after several careful washes. The doctors were amazed at how much saltwater was inside them. Without the help of his mystery girl, they told him again and again, he would undoubtedly be dead. Even with her help, it was near a miracle that she had been able to tow him through so much water without causing further harm to the strange wounds.

The only problem with departure from the hospital was its strict protection against as many lawsuits as possible. Jesse did not want to exit in a wheelchair. The doctors cajoled weakly. Professional physicians, many decades out of internship, were afraid of the power that a seventeen-year-old could hold over them. Finally, Dr. Grey entered the room. Quite pointedly, she explained to Jesse that he would either remain in the hospital, or exit while in a wheelchair. His housekeeper had a car waiting, which a nurse would assist him into. The hospital wasn't about to have its reputation ruined because he was clumsy enough to fall on his face.

The trip out to the car was difficult. Nurses, patients judged ambulatory, and some who were, by all official paperwork, bedridden, crowded around, clamoring for an autograph, a kiss, a smile, or even a wave. The harried doctors, used to celebrities, but not charming young ones who had actually needed a trip to the hospital, forced their way through the hall. The parking area was cleared except for a concept car that ran purely on solar and electrical power. Such a thing was unheard of, to most, but Derek had received it as a gift after his last movie involving that model of car.

Madeline Watson had once been a famous cook. Maddie had lost her fame in the years she had taken to recover after her husband's death. Cooking for programs was now dominated by the young, or at least those with a catch-phrase or new concept. She was a traditional cook, one who believed that good instincts towards measurement and attention to detail was what created a good meal, not fancy combinations of pre-laid out bowls. She had not gone back to television, finding only pre-made trays where unseen drudges did the work. Instead, she went to work for the Daltons. She had her own suite of rooms, a car with all maintenance taken care of, very little of her day taken by the small work, and even could hire a maid at her own discretion to take care of housekeeping duties.

"I'll be fine," Jesse Dalton promised for what sounded like the thirty-seventh time. "It was just a bit of a surfing accident, a fluke that won't happen again. My father will be back from Tokyo in a few days with Aisling Morgan for the premiere of his new film." He slipped into the car while evading doctors shouting final orders, closing the door firmly without a slam. Slammed doors made miffed reporters, and miffed reporters wrote scathing stories or searched for new material with which to write such stories.

"Are you really fine?" Maddie asked, glancing at her passenger for an instant as she carefully maneuvered her way through the crowd that plastered itself to the car. He always had been popular, but the attention had always seemed superfluous to Maddie. It was no wonder the boy was spoiled beyond repair, with people treating him like they would an idol.

"Yes, Madeline," he said shortly. He had never asked her nickname, and she had never offered it. The ride back was silent, the closed silence that would only come from people uncomfortable with each other. Maddie wished he would treat people better, and Jesse wished that the housekeeper wouldn't give him such disapproving looks.

He walked inside on his own. He didn't bother to hold the door open behind himself. She could get it. She was saying something, but he ignored her. He knew the schedule. Dinner was at six o'clock P.M., and not a moment before or after. If that was a problem, he could always heat leftovers which were never as good as her cooking, though he would never admit such a fact in her hearing.

His room was near the entrance of the mansion. It really was more a large suite than a room, as he had his own study, bathroom, walk-in closet, and small library connected to his room. He had been withdrawn from public school years ago, and did all studying alone or with Candy. She was his only real friend, but that didn't bother him. He never saw why it should, as he had models and actresses ten years his senior, and sometimes older, twining around him at any given moment. He did not at all mind his father's fame.

There was someone in his room. He stopped, narrowing his eyes at the girl fool enough to come into his rooms. He was notorious for firing maids, as Maddie was quick to report to any new arrivals. His space was to be left alone. Yet this girl stood in the middle of his spotless room, putting the last of neatly folded jeans in a drawer.

The room was immaculate. He hardly recognized it as his own. The collection of vintage comic books, worth thousands in the least, was tucked onto a bookshelf, arranged by title and date, every last issue inside one of the protective covers he had ordered years ago. The pile of discarded clothing, all from the most prominent designers, was gone, replaced by folded and hung shirts and pants. There was no dust on his computer, and his books had been stacked carefully by subject. It would have taken a week, at least. He knew what had been going on while he was in the hospital over an injury he already had forgotten to the past. This new maid had cleaned his room.

She turned, basket empty. She paused when she saw him, not even bothering to look him over in the speculative way of a new person. She acted as if she had seen him before. She had nerve, then, or she had seen one of the many portraits that had been done without charge by various artists hoping to increase their reputation and prestige among colleagues. He didn't spare her more than a glance. Her hair was some bland color, blonde or brown, and her eyes were a shade of grayish blue that wasn't at all eye-catching. She had a nice enough figure, he noted without embarrassment. She looked the type that would offer anything without hesitation.

"Are you the new maid?" he asked, a pointless question. She wore a normal enough outfit, jeans and a casual blouse, but there was no mistaking the look of a maid. Maddie insisted on casual attire except for in the most formal occasions. If she was going to have people in skirts, the cook often said, it would be for good reason.

The maid nodded. The expression on her face could be labeled wondering, if one were truly searching. She did not look nervous about speaking directly to Jesse Dalton, who intimidated most reporters. He was quite good at such a hostile but charming front, a reason the press would not report a story about him without very good proof. He had the perfect poker face and expressive features for a press conference, winning people over without even needing words.

"What's your name, then?" Most introduced themselves right away, giving either a personal history he wouldn't listen to or making an offer that might make them less dispensable around the house that he may or may not refuse. He was no stranger to such proposals, and his father was only proud to hear of them. That was how Derek had made his own start, after all.

Here the girl frowned. She shifted the basket to leave a hand free. Tapping her throat with a finger, she shook her head. It was universal body language for "I don't speak." He didn't listen to body language. He spoke in it.

"Tell me your name." This was an order. No one had ever refused to do such a simple thing before. Jesse had a quick temper, honed after years of no one giving him anything but his way. This girl was deliberately withholding something from him, as simple as a name. He felt the beginnings of white-hot rage stir within him.

She shook her head, hopelessly. It could be defiance, but she knew not what else to do. She couldn't speak, and her writing was not something he could read. Maddie had tried, on her first day of work, and could only make out two words.

"Get out," he yelled, following with an angry rant that used copious amounts of words certainly not polite in the presence of anyone. He was the son of a movie star. No one withheld information from him, especially not overly confident little maids who had messed with his stuff. He would tell Maddie to fire her, even if she did get out.

She did. Turning the basket to fit through the doorway without bumping him, she fled the room. He watched her retreat, noticing that she wore dark red socks with a pale pink shirt. It made sense that she knew nothing of the usual fashion do's and don'ts. He wasn't about to teach her, and she would be gone by tomorrow morning.

Jesse did not leave his room until just before six. Maddie would not have changed the time for dinner. In his opinion, the woman would never change, but would always remain a boring old woman waiting for history to repeat as it was rumored to do. He had heard her many times as she cooked, muttering about the horrors of the present age as she pounded the heels of her hands into a defenseless lump of dough that would benefit from the treatment.

Maddie had set three places. Belatedly, Jesse remembered the maid. She would be at dinner. That would be of no matter. He would just tell Maddie, before the meal was over, that the girl was to be fired. No employee had lasted more than three months, as Jesse had some control over dismissing them. He was not known for being understanding towards those who made mistakes.

"I believe you two have met?" Maddie set the food on the table. For the night, it was grilled steaks, cooked just the way Jesse liked them. Maddie had always loved medium-rare, so making the meat pink was no trouble for her. She looked from one to the other, not afraid of her employer's son. She was the one person safe from the whims of the spoiled (she would never say this aloud) brat.

"Yes. She won't tell me her name." This was enough of an accusation that Maddie knew what was on his mind.

"I should think not!" Maddie said sharply. She rarely used that tone, but matters were serious when she did. "She is mute. Her name is Lille Havfrue, but she usually goes by Lily." The cook said nothing of how the girl had been sitting in the room assigned to her, angry tears flowing down her face as she glared at her closet door.

"A mute?" he repeated. Maddie had never hired anyone with such a difficulty before. "Can she at least write?" He ignored Lille, speaking directly to Maddie.

"Yes. Take a look." Maddie gave him a sheet of lined paper used for grocery list. A few sentences had been written carefully. The handwriting was neat and precise, but the symbols were slightly different than the alphabet of the language they spoke, and the only identifiable words were Lille Havfrue.

"It's gibberish." He returned the paper dismissively. "She's just about useless, Maddie."

"No, she is not." Maddie had no idea why, but she defended this girl she had known for just a week more than any of her other new hires. "She's staying, and I'll tell you why. She has nowhere to go, as no one else would give her a real chance."

"Since when do you decide such things?" Jesse was astonished. Maddie had never said such a thing. She always just gave one of many disappointed looks and slipped a disgruntled or relieved maid a bonus for their work, the amount of extra pay depending on how hard they had been willing to work.

"Since my resignation tenders over her staying," Maddie replied, unruffled. She had quite enough money to live comfortably most anywhere, as long as she stayed in a moderate neighborhood. She had worked here for fourteen years, after all, and Derek was known for his theory of happy employees working happily.

"What?"

"Give her three months, and then we'll see. If she isn't the fine young girl I see, then she can leave. I will, too, if you raise a fuss." Maddie looked to Lily for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Would you pass the potatoes, Lille?"

* * *

Derek and Aisling returned a few days later. Aisling peered at the mute girl, trying to place her. She fired questions about previous residences at the girl until even Jesse was almost inclined to take the maid's side. Derek cut in smoothly, stopping his female companion's rampage of questions. At his age, girlfriend was a nearly ridiculous term. He asked a few questions that could be answered with gestures, getting her name from Maddie. He knew a few mute actresses, one of whom mouthed words onscreen. Only her closest friends were even aware of the difficulty she faced.

Derek was charmed by the polite girl, who did not look at all threatened by the famous people around her. She was curious, but had not once asked for an autograph. From what Maddie had said, she had not even really known how famous the people here were. Lille had needed a job, and that was the only motive she had needed. Derek told his son that he wasn't to torment the poor girl, and left with Aisling before he would listen to his son's indignant sputterings.

Lille was cleaning one of the older rooms when Jesse found her. She had been whistling quietly, low notes that sounded like a bird calling. Ornithologists would recognize her imitation down to a species, but to the normal ear, she whistled a tune in an odd tone. He tapped her on the shoulder, glaring as he spoke. He had something to say, and she wouldn't repeat it. She couldn't if she wanted to, unless she was hiding something.

"Listen, Lille, if that's even your real name. I don't want you anywhere near me. Do you understand that, mutie?" His words were cruel, undoubtedly, but were blunt and to the point. He never spoke this way to reporters, unless the situation called for it, but to a maid who couldn't speak back, it was easy.

Lille nodded once, trying to keep her chin high in the air, hoping he would hear her body language. _You can't hurt me. I mean to leave you alone. You are nothing to me. _Inside, she felt as though her heart was breaking. No one had told her that people regarded as princes in this age could be cruel instead of kind. She wouldn't have believed them, even if they had known. She wiped freshwater tears from her eyes with the clean part of her dusting rag, cleaning the room with a vengeance. He would be nicer, once he knew her a little better. He perhaps just had once experienced something negative involving a mute person. That had to be all. It had to.


	3. Making Cookies

Candy had been on a week-long trip to Europe, a trip planned by her parents that she spent investigating political feelings towards the United States in France and England. They had meant for her to attend some fashion show or other, and buy a "more suitable wardrobe," as they put it. She had given her ticket to an aspiring model that had stared forlornly at the entrance, and instead attended a free concert by a local band. Buying a copy of their CD, she promised to pass around a few more to her friends back in the States. They thanked her enthusiastically, not even knowing who her parents were.

The airline delivered her luggage straight to her home. Stars were taken care of with a level of competitive indulgence that made anything fair game. They knew that the patronage of stars attracted passengers desperate for a bit of celebrity-spotting, and therefore more business. Candy didn't bother returning home after returning from the airport. Her parents were in Los Angeles for the week, and the housekeeper in her cold mansion was a grouchy underpaid immigrant who spoke barely any English. Maddie was much better company, even if Jesse was in one of his more annoying moods.

She didn't bother to knock on the Daltons' door. It quite literally was her second home, and no one would bother to answer the doorbell. Anyone they wanted to see knew enough to just walk in. She found that the front hall was newly mopped, still a bit damp. Her shoes tracked no dirt, but left tracks in someone's work. She looked around, but no one was there to apologize to. She knew Maddie hadn't done it, and no maid in her memory had lasted long enough to get to such a task, between the three permanent residents. Jesse was too demanding, Derek was too suspicious of privacy threats within his own home, and Maddie would tolerate no bad attitudes.

She found Jesse in his room. The door was open. Candy spun in the center of his room, surprised. She didn't even have to act. "Your room is clean," she announced, seeing him at the computer. He was undoubtedly playing one of the violent shooter games with some other person online, bad-temperedly shutting off his power before admitting to losing a game.

"Yes. Some new maid came in while I was still at the hospital. She won't do it again." He didn't look away from his game, intent on a computer-made figure of the highest quality available that had just decapitated an enemy fighter with some combination attack.

Candy made a face. She didn't know why people played those games. "She's a brave girl, then. I wouldn't go through that mess that you have had stacked in here since we were seven. Why won't she?"

"I don't like her. My father and Maddie are near infatuated with her, and Maddie pretty much said that she'll resign if the girl goes. She's taking the thing under her giant maternal wing, and insisting that the girl has nowhere else to go." He pressed a switch, and his computer screen lost its image of his fighter dying from some unseen attack. That was his usual response to a loss.

"Why do you dislike this one?" Candy was resigned to this by now. Jesse found flaws in most everyone, though he hadn't dared try his imperial tactics with her. She had beaten him up when they both were six, after an arrogant little movie star's son had targeted the anchorman's brat. She hadn't been much better, she knew now, but she did_ try_ to forget the preconceptions her parents had taught.

"She claims that she's mute, and proved it by writing some gobbledygook on a piece of paper. All that Madeline could read from it was her name." He found the latest plans for her project on his computer after rebooting it, pointing to a new feature. "That one guy in London wrote me back. Apparently, his son the wannabe rock star talked to a certain red-haired Candy about a friend named Jesse, and this guy's a mechanic for a scuba company that wants to help. Your rock-star boyfriend added a postscript."

"I'll look him over at home, and he's not my boyfriend." She didn't fall for his tactic. He was changing the subject. He never did like to discuss the inevitable debate. Nothing she said would convince him that he was a spoiled prig, and nothing he said would convince her that he was right in treating everyone else that way. Still, it was a familiar routine, and one that Candy routinely won when he forfeited. "What's this about the maid?"

"She can't say a bloody word."

"So?" Candy asked tartly. She was easily irritated by her friend, but she knew that he was a good guy. When not being a judgmental bastard, that was. "And what was her name? If she can't say it, the polite thing to do is share it."

"Lily Havfrue."

Candy frowned. "That sounds familiar. I've never heard of her before, but I've heard something with that name." She was fond of self-education, beyond what the text-books showed, which irritated Jesse. She would never have a real life if she always was burying herself in some book.

"Well, you'll meet her. Unless you forget after all your jet lag, Madeline's serving dinner in a few minutes. She already planned on putting out an extra plate. She loves you, calls you 'that nice girl' and even said to my father that I should be more like you." He was angry with Madeline, not her, and was resentful that he should be anyone but himself.

"I'm eating here. My parents don't expect my plane back until tonight, and they'll call at about three in the morning, after completely forgetting, then go into a quieter corner of whatever party they're at and pretend to be in their apartment. I asked about the noise, once. They said it was the people downstairs." She didn't sound angry, either. After so many years, anger and bitter tears turned to a dull apathy.

Dinner that night was an uncomfortable affair for Jesse. Candy told Maddie all about her trip, detailing the way that the prime minister's method of succession was superior to a president's. She claimed that the United States should be a parliamentary democracy, and that educated minds abroad agreed that a two-party system was ridiculous and only spoke of how easily Americans were caught in useless tradition, such as electoral colleges.

She also spoke to Lily. The two had a conversation, as if Lily had no trouble speaking at all. Candy asked questions that needed only a nod, shake, or a gesture, and Maddie helped in keeping up a full conversation. For a moment, Lily glanced at Jesse, almost asking for him to say something. But he only glared, and she looked away suddenly, ripping her gaze away, to answer a quick question.

Jesse had something to think about that night. Candy had not minded the mute girl at all. Before Candy had left for the short walk to her house, she had quite clearly told Jesse that he ought to be nicer to people, and that Lille wasn't at all one of the star-chasers that he despised. Perhaps he had been a little harsh on a speechless person, taking advantage of the fact that she couldn't talk back to retort a reprimand. But that was folly, of course.

He was Jesse Dalton, already slated to be on the cover of _People _for his eighteenth birthday. The party would be just a few days after his birthday, coinciding with the release of his father's next movie. In show business, every last appearance was about attracting fans, entertaining them, and keeping them pleased with whispers of rumors that would never headline the most outrageous publication, but kept fans murmuring.

He fell asleep with a much easier train of thoughts in his mind. Surfing was out of the question for the winter, after the recommended rest period and the months of bad waves until the next year. He could always help Candy with her latest project. She wanted to be a journalist as well as a marine biologist, an odd combination for anyone, and her new SCUBA machine would revolutionize exploring under the coast. Without bulky, dangerous oxygen tanks, dives could be longer than ever, and in smaller spaces.

He woke with a start, just before seven in the morning. An instant of dream had shocked him from sleep. A tentacle was again constricting his chest, squeezing until his lungs would burst, and all he heard was the beautiful voice speaking quickly. The image thankfully did not last long. However short it had been, he would not be sleeping again for the night.

Throwing on an outfit haphazardly from various pieces of designer clothing that cost enough that most would treat them with kid-gloves, he decided to go outside. Even if surfing wasn't an option, he still loved to watch the waves crash against the shore. He did not even tell Candy of this small thing, not wanting anyone to know that he wasn't fully a tough guy. He had his moments of being dangerously sentimental, and his like of the sea was not going to headline a sparse tabloid.

There was someone else on the beach. It was January, and this was private property. It had been some time since his August incident in the ocean, and the paparazzi had given up hope of finding a somehow forever-scarred invalid. He had faint circular marks from the odd bites, but that was the only physical reminder left of the encounter. He moved closer, frowning. He hadn't seen another car in the area.

It was Lily. She had barely stayed in the same room as him for the last five months, but didn't seem skittish. He had caught her staring at him, blue-grey eyes unreadable, but she had not looked ashamed. By the tilt of her chin that she had while watching him, he should feel repentant for some unknown sin. The thought was laughable. As was his response to many such topics, he was Jesse Dalton. He did not have such problems.

He felt irrationally angry. The beach had always been the one spot that he could come to be alone. Maddie usually prepared breakfast early in the morning, before leaving for town to help an invalid friend. Candy had her own beach to wander in the early morning. His father had no time for such a thing, walking the beach while he could be working on some new movie, his many investments, his standings with the press. Aisling, still the girlfriend of the year, would not go on the beach unless absolutely necessary. She hated sand. That had left him, until she had come. Thinking back, he realized that he hadn't needed his beach sanctuary for six months. That did not make it hers, though.

He was about to say something. Without explanation, he stopped. He could not give a specific reason. She looked at the ocean hungrily, not with the passing fascination that was all he could offer. She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing a bathrobe tighter. He could see pajama pants with little fish on them, some from an animated movie his father had laughed at a few years ago.

Her eyes did not look so boring. They were still some shade between blue and grey, but this time he saw them next to the sea. The sky was overcast and grey, and the oceans a midrange blue that seemed to take the grey into its shade. Her eyes matched the sea, or were close enough that he could see a resemblance. The early morning wind whipped past, making her dark hair blow past her shoulders in groupings of strands. For a moment, an errant beam of sunlight showed a blonder tone in her hair.

Lily turned, so gracefully that he hardly noticed the motion. She had caught him staring, for once. Good. Let him stare. She could get used to that. She gave him the smallest of nods, a civility one might grant to a rock of particular interest, and walked back to the mansion. She used a side door, one close to the wing of the house that the serving staff always used. He saw a light turn on, dim through just-closed curtains. She was not about to give anyone a showing.

He walked back inside, contemplating thoughts he had always managed to stop before. Only when he was eating a breakfast of freshly made French pastry did he realize that he had never once looked at the waves that he loved so much. The waves sometimes held dolphins, which he had always listed unhesitatingly as the most captivating sight. Thinking of how the image of a maid on a beach had frozen him, he may have to reconsider. He may be Jesse Dalton, but he may just have to change his mind.

That day, Lily took a step that was daring, for her. Usually, laundry in baskets was left in the hall, and empty baskets were collected later. A small chore was no real work for Jesse, and it kept the girl he had taken a disliking to out of his room. She stepped inside. He and Candy were altering some image on the computer screen. Seeing her, Jesse raised no objections, but shrugged slightly. Candy, looking from one to the other, did not say a word and instead went back to the diagram. Sometimes, it was better to just not comment. Jesse enjoyed playing the part of Hollywood's favorite actor's bad boy of a son far too much for his own good.

Small changes were made, nothing drastic, over the next three months. Jesse gradually began to eat lunch at a set time, but would often delay without any real excuse until Lily arrived. Neither said a word, or made any real gesture, for any of the meals. Jesse was still uncomfortably aware of the fact that she couldn't talk, and almost felt that speaking would be somehow mocking. She kept his room neater than a pin, satisfactory to the toughest of drill sergeants. She mock-ridiculed him sometimes, when she was in a teasing mood and he wasn't glowering, waving a dust-covered cloth fiercely as she ineffectively hid a smile. She did not know how a room could get so mussed in just a few days.

Dinners were something else entirely. Jesse felt safer with Madeline there. She had been surprised when he had asked if she preferred Maddie, which she did. She had attributed the change to Candy, who had called her Maddie for years. But watching the way that he would glance at Lily when she felt no one was looking, she guessed there was another motive involved. Jesse finally had a friend who had far less of an income than him, someone who worked for a living.

Lily did work. She single-handedly restored every room in the manor without a locked door. Once those were done, she painstakingly relayed a request for a key. Derek had provided a master key, one that would unlock any room in the house. Lily had blushed with surprise that he would trust her so, and silently promised to not disappoint him. She always had her one time of day, however, that wasn't devoted to work. No one said a word about it, except for the one time that Maddie had remarked a little ritual never hurt anyone, and that people were all the more productive with a break of some sort.

Every morning before dawn, a single figure would stand on the beach. She never let the ocean touch her skin, an odd fact that never escaped Jesse. He had encouraged her to just once, diving in fully clothed to show her that the water wasn't dangerous. She had looked longingly at the water, but finally shook her head. It was too risky. He promised that she wouldn't drown, but she had merely left without another gesture. Her robe billowed out behind her, and her slippered feet made odd tracks on the sand. She would never walk barefoot, another thing she could or would not explain. Odd tracks or not, she would not go back to the water that day, despite the fact that her usual time had been cut by three quarters. Jesse never brought the subject up again.

The happiest day was the time that Lily and Jesse, with no help but a speaker telephone call to Candy, decided to make cookies. Chocolate chip cookies, to be exact. Lily laughed at the odd measurements, and at the flour that dusted his nose. Candy couldn't help but laugh through the phone that neither knew how to soften butter. The lopsided and admittedly lumpy cookies finally made it into the oven. Candy came over almost an hour later, giving them time to learn for themselves that burnt sugar was disgusting, and allowing time to dispose of burned cookies without any blows to their pride as chefs. To her surprise, a few dozen awaited her on cooling racks. Most were ellipses or some other fragmented shape rather than circles, but they tasted fine enough.

Candy was helping them clean up when the doorbell rang. All three looked that way, curious. No one rang, if they knew the family. They would simply walk in. Lily looked away. She couldn't answer doors, not without completely confusing whoever was there. Candy shrugged. It wasn't her house. She kept doing the dishes, which Lily dried carefully.

Jesse opened the door to find the most beautiful woman he had ever met. She wore a dress that would be too small on most anyone, but it seemed to fit her perfectly. It was black, and matched her high heels that Candy dismissed as ankle-breakers and the alligator-skin purse she held. A cabdriver carried a large trunk, a black leather construction that did not have a single scuff mark on it. She wrapped her arms around him without hesitation, cooing into his ear.

"I'm in love with you already, Jesse Dalton. I'm Sirene Seple," she said, backing away only when he looked suitably shocked, and not likely to shoot off a negative response to her proposal. "Sirene to you. I know it's a bit sudden, but I can't help myself. The trunk can leave with me, if you don't want me to stay. But can't you give a girl just one night? I have the perfect place to go."

"I'm free tonight, Sirene," he said, with his most charming smile. This was more common than people guessed, really, and this woman was gorgeous. It would help his image, being seen with such a person. Even if she wasn't what he was looking for, one night wouldn't hurt. How could it?


	4. Thorned Roses

Candy looked from Jesse to the new arrival, trying to find something more to the story. "She just showed up, and you promised to let her live here while you date her?" she repeated. She did not like this woman on sight, as Candy was sure that this Sirene was one of the many black widow beauties that flocked to surround celebrities. Jesse had never agreed to one before. Why would he start now?

"Yes." Jesse looked fairly annoyed that his friend didn't approve of his decision. He could choose if he wanted to go out for a night without having to worry that Candy would criticize what he did.

"Are you jealous?" Sirene asked, amused by the girl and not bothering to conceal it.

"No. I just find it hard to believe that he would just agree to such a thing. What did you say your name was?" Candy had a reporter's bad feeling about this woman. She had learned to trust the small feeling that her hair was standing on end.

"Sirene Anderson," she said smoothly. Jesse didn't notice that she had given Seple as a name just a minute ago. "I have quite a nice family, in a little hick-town down the coast. I've always been a fan of his."

"I'll just leave you two alone, then," Candy said acidly, sounding disgusted. How could he fall for such a ploy? Just last year one of the few times they shared a joke was when they went over the last desperate attempts for some girl to get a more intimate relation with a star. She thought back, wondering why she had once seen one of those girls leaving in the morning. _He wouldn't have done _that_, would he? _She knew the answer, and stormed away, not bothering to look back to see Lily pass by the couple in the hallway. She obviously had not known her 'friend' as well as she thought.

Lily, quiet and mild-mannered Lily, froze at the sight of Sirene. She glared, openly frowning at the new guest as she made a quick series of rude hand gestures. Far from articulate, they were all she could say. _She can't do that. It wasn't in the original agreement. _With a sudden shock, Lily realized something. There had been nothing prohibiting such a thing. Sirene knew all tricks possible in the deal between them, the only reason Lily had this opportunity.

"Who is this?" Sirene purred, smiling a dangerous smile at Lily. "Timid creature, isn't she? Is she too awestruck to say a word, or just too silly to make a coherent sentence?" She paused, giving her next words greater effect. "My, my- does she always greet new visitors with such hostility?"

"Lily," Jesse warned, not understanding the other meanings that such a glare could take. He saw only bad feelings to his new guest, and assumed there was jealousy over wealth or beauty. He never imagined it could have anything to do with the arm Sirene wrapped around his waist, or some previous meeting. How would a mute girl have met such a debutante? He neglected to remember how confident she had been in meeting him and his more famous father. "This is Sirene."

Lily nodded stiffly. He didn't catch the meaning. She could hardly show what this intruder was through gestures, and he seemed to not notice any cues that fell below direct speech. Even if she could tell him what manner of venom this woman had, she knew that he would not believe her. He saw only what he wanted to see.

"All is forgiven," Sirene said with a false sense of reconciliation. "Yokels always stare so at celebrities. Come on, Jesse. Let's leave the common element to whatever drudgework she has to accomplish. I want to show you the places I know in L.A. before night falls, and we need to get to the club on time to be fashionably late."

Jesse allowed himself to be led away without refuting a single comment from Sirene. Lily watched them go, one fist clenched so tight that her fingernails bit into her hand. Fine. If he felt that way, she could to. She had believed that he was something more than a spoiled brat, for three wasted months. She would find a more rewarding way to spend her time. Storming into the kitchen, she felt no regret as the last of the misshapen cookies were tipped into the garbage bin. They hadn't tasted that good.

That night became the first of many. Lily and Candy were the only people at Maddie's table. Jesse always was at some popular club or another, frequently making news clips with Sirene perpetually wrapped around him, smiling coolly at the cameras. She was photographed for _People _magazine, and gave falsely sincere advice for the best way to net "a big one." She gained her own following of adoring men, and took delights in publicly humiliating them all.

Candy had started a course at the local college, though she was still working on the last classes in high school. She came over more rarely, but was still present more often at dinner than Jesse. Derek Dalton, when he was home, approved of his son's new lifestyle. That was what Derek had been doing at that age, after all. He always had hoped Jesse would stop thinking of a "serious" career and just join him in acting. His image could use a boost, and he was in the market for a new agent, one to cover them both. Aisling had become more irritating than ever. The signs of yet another Dalton break-up were looming, and she became clingy enough to test the most committed of men. He wasn't one of them, and she soon moved her belongings from the mansion.

Maddie left a single book on Jesse's desk. It was an old book, an anthology of Hans Christian Anderson's works. She left a bookmark to mark one story, one that she felt all should know. If he wanted to ever figure out a few things, books were the only answer. She bet he wouldn't read it, but she had to try. She could have predicted the fate of the book, which was shoved roughly onto an organized shelf.

Lily found it there, and ran a finger along the dusty spine. She paused, reading the story Maddie had marked with a satin ribbon. Maddie had guessed something, then, or had simply enjoyed the tale of The Little Mermaid. Lily, in a last hope, set the book beneath his pillow, where the hard cover would attract attention. She could not have predicted that Sirene would be there in that bed, disdainfully shoving the book to the bottom of his untouched papers from the experiment that Candy felt no further use in sharing. He was far too distracted with parties and Sirene to remember an old friend and the experiment they had worked on together. Lily made no other attempts, instead visiting the room so rarely occupied less and less as time went by.

Lily found a task that took more time from usually empty days. She tended the gardens. A gardener had been hired to water and prune, but he only came once a week. She left alone the self-sufficient ground-cover flowers and perennial shrubs that needed the least of care. The few scraggly palm trees were beyond her help, too high for her to reach. Few things in the sparse garden needed help, or more than a little water now and then. But the roses were hers alone.

Roses were the flowers that signified love, as she heard often. She had no near-magical talent, but did have enough time to coax each bud into blooming. She hummed to them, the closest she could come to singing. Once, she danced around and through them, pirouetting and arabesque-ing like any professional ballerina. She knew each of the plants, with time, and they flowered for her. The first perfect bloom was set in a bowl of water for Maddie, and the smile on the cook's face was more than enough reward for her efforts.

Candy complimented the roses, as well. Derek noticed them after only two weeks. He asked the gardener what had changed, when he saw the old man watering the flowers, and the man had only shrugged. He never had been in awe of any Dalton. The gardener was a veteran of wars, and quite pleased to have a well-paying job that didn't tax all the strength he had left. He liked his employer, for all his times of arrogance.

"Weren't me" was all that the gardener said in his rustic speech. "It was that girl, the one who comes out to the roses. That's how they bloom, you know. They need love, pure stuff, not a grizzled old man like me. I have love for my old girl, and that's enough for me to be done." But Derek had gone after hearing 'that girl,' determined to know who had made these flowers bloom. Josefina, his first wife, had planted them, and they had not bloomed since her death in an airplane accident years ago, two months after she left him for that incident with his secretary. She had loved roses, but would not ignore infidelity.

Eventually, he found from Maddie that the person responsible was the shy maid that he had insisted on keeping. She gave no real response to his praises but a cautious smile, and the lightest of blushes. She hadn't thought that reviving a few old brambles of roses would be such a well-thought-of action. She had only seen dying flowers that needed attention, and a diversion to take time away from her days.

It was April, the month usually given rain showers in an old rhyme. Her roses bloomed fully, and she could only imagine what they would do in May. She had been working there for eight months, she knew one morning, and it felt like just a string of moments. That one time on the beach that Jesse had really looked at her, the rare times that he had carried on a full conversation with her, the day that he taught her how to play some video game where she was a princess named for a piece of fruit that beat his elven archer named Link (a feat which he insisted was unheard of), and the many other small moments that she doubted he would remember. She knew what she was missing, even if he didn't.

Her mornings had taken on the same pattern as before, with one difference. No one joined her on the beach. Instead, she sat on the rock that protruded from the sand like the roughest of sentinels, watching the waves with her feet curled under her. The cool air soothed them, as they easily became sore. She never made any sign of complaint. She never had been one for whining. She missed the odd company that the spoiled son of a celebrity had provided. He wouldn't notice. He and Sirene were always with each other, she knew.

Sirene now had her own permanent room, furnished and decorated to her tastes. She used his credit card to make most purchases. She had a secretary that lived in a room connected to hers, though she usually was in Jesse's. His name was given only as Mako. He had the dark-skinned look of someone from around the Filipino Islands. Odder than even his obvious lack of a computer, stenographer's pad, or any other organizational device were his eyes. They seemed to lack an iris, as his eyes looked like nothing more than blackness surrounding by a startling white.

He ate with Candy and Lily. Maddie tried to have a conversation with the man, but he would politely kill all attempts after a few deliberate remarks. Lily glanced at him when she thought no one was looking, but did not have the angry line she always had when glaring at Sirene. She seemed sad to see the secretary, and wanted to say something to him. Instead, she stared until he would look at her for a moment. This moment was always followed by him looking away, not saying a word.

"I'm writing an article about sharks for the paper," Candy announced one night, not expecting any response but a few congratulations from Maddie and a quick smile from Lily, who always looked to have words ready to say.

"What do you think about them?" he asked, accented voice still clear. Instead of muffling syllables, the lilt gave his words a cadence of their own.

"I think movies such as _Jaws_ have misled people. They attack for hunger, not some insane rage, and sharks that do kill usually mistake the person for a seal. If people would use a new kind of surfboard, a design by a smaller company rather than the big names, then fatalities would be reduced." Her response sounded almost recitative. She had argued the point several times, never accepting that there was nothing else to them.

"Why would you say that?" His eyes were impassive, and as dark as ever.

"Because I feel that sharks have an undeserved reputation, and I feel that I am nearly one of them. Sharks can never stop, not for a minute, or they'll drown. If I so much as pause, the media pounces on my, crowding until I can't breathe. Sharks are almost always alone, which I can sympathize with. Some are in groups, but even those schools are more grouped for food than companionship." Many found her speech too long, but Mako listened intently.

Maddie smiled as the two left the table. She shooed Candy away from her usual self-appointed task of drying as someone else washed the dishes. That young man needed someone to talk to. She had a feeling that something was going on, more than even she had guessed at first. Lily helped, smiling weakly when Maddie happily detailed how perfect the pair was for each other.

Candy was not as frequent of a dinner-guest, after that. She was gone about twice a week, as well as her new-found boyfriend, to go out to a simpler restaurant. Both were back long before midnight, unlike Jesse and Sirene. Those two were gone frequently enough that Candy wondered if she was still friends with Jesse. She hadn't seen him since the day Sirene arrived, except for a few scattered meetings where he was too tired to really do anything but stare blankly.

All seemed to be settling into yet another pattern. Lily watched the sunrise over the beach, letting the wind blow her hair away from her face into waves that never again seemed to have that shimmer. Her eyes were more grey than blue, though that could have been some trick of the light. Whatever it had been, it was no longer there. She had no hidden features revealed by dawn-light on the beach, except a dreamy look in her eyes that could mean any number of things.

She tackled the last room, an elaborate setting for balls with an inlaid parquet floor, a bare alcove for a small orchestra, the highest ceiling Lily had ever seen in her life, and a gigantic set of picture windows that looked over the ocean. It was in complete disarray when she adopted the project of her own, and even the wooden floor looked tired. Lily had a surprisingly unlimited budget, courtesy of Derek after Maddie's unreserved recommendation, and a month before a birthday party.

Jesse had turned seventeen the day he had been put into the hospital by some event that no one in the house spoke of, though some unmentioned taboo. His eighteenth birthday would be a grand event, promoting Derek's new movie while celebrating a birthday. Jesse had told his father that he would consider acting, after Sirene's playful urges that he would look 'adorable' on-screen. Any girlfriend would want that, in her opinion.

The ballroom would be used. Lily agreed to have it ready in time. She could do it, she knew. She had quickly learned the various cleaning solvents and solutions used in the place, and Maddie had already hired a crew to take care of the ceilings. Everything else could be done by her, but the ceilings were too high for anything but scaffolding to reach. While a three-man crew restored the paint to its original sheen, Lily looked over fabric for a curtain. An orchestra had been hired, directed by the esteemed Dr. Howard Sage. Maddie had given her all details he needed. The conductor did not like to be stared at, so a sheer curtain would be made to mark off the alcove.

Countless other preparations were needed. Maddie took care of food and drinks, reluctantly accepting help from Candy and Mako. Lily would take no assistance. Instead, she closed the doors each morning with the loudest sound she could bring herself to make. Inside, she hummed to herself as she cleaned. She usually picked songs without words, complex pieces that she could hear clearly within her own mind. She danced around the ballroom floor after a painstaking cleaning, dancing gracefully as she led an imaginary partner about the dance floor. She curtsied at the conclusion of the dance with skirts she was not wearing, only fitting for an invisible partner who bowed in return.

She had been careful to never let anyone see her while she danced. Such caution never fully lasts. She heard a snatch of a favorite song drifting from the kitchen. Lily danced down the hall, lighter than a feather and quicker than mercury in dizzying turns and twists. She didn't realize she had an audience until she saw Maddie, Candy, and Mako in the door of the kitchen, staring with two of three mouths wide open. Maddie looked thoughtful, considering some thought.

Lily looked ready to retreat, but Maddie stopped her. "Lily," she said, voice holding the gentle tone of a mother. "Dance all you like. I wouldn't mind watching in the least. You shouldn't hide talents like that, if you love it so much." Only one that loved the motion would dance with that intensity.

"Where did you learn that?" Candy breathed. She had wanted to be a ballerina once, but did not have the coordination. If such motion could be learned, she would find a use for her exorbitant allowance that she used for college textbooks.

Lily shrugged, embarrassed by the astonishment of others. Dancing had been as natural to her as walking, only it made her happier. Mako said nothing, but instead watched her. He knew, now. He had made a guess, when Sirene came to this place, but Lily's dance had confirmed his guess. Lily knew that he had put together the last facts, and that he was also bound to keep her secret.

"Will you dance at the party?" Maddie asked, a plan already formulating. "We were going to hire a corps de ballet, but that seems superfluous. You don't have to give an answer now," she added hastily, seeing Lily ready to refuse. "Just think about it, Lily. It has been done before."

Lily nodded, once, before leaving. She would eat at dinner. For the moment, she had a heavier kind of food. Her food was one for thought, and she had much to consider. She didn't dance back down the hallway, caught completely in thought. Instead, she sat in her nearly bare room and then opened the full wallet that contained all money she had earned working her. Impulsively, she gathered a few bills marked with a 100 and decided to make good on Candy's earlier promise. She would go to the ball, some sort of off-beat Cinderella who didn't hope to win the heart of a charming prince. She would just make sure that she was never forgotten, even if she didn't find glass slippers.

Lily had a gown, one that she would never find the equal to. She would need shoes, the perfect pair. Her current pair was comfortable, red tennis shoes with enough design to not be boring, but they would never match the gown, or any formal outfit. Candy had taken Lille shopping a few times, choosing smaller stores that didn't unnerve the shy girl as much. This time, Lily decided to go straight for the top of the line. The gown was perfect, and the shoes must at least be stupendous. She would not go to this ball as a drudge. She would go as someone worthy of attention. She left the room, dancing down the hallways, a small fortune tucked into her back pocket. She was never shy, when there was a mission to complete. This time, Cinderella was going to find some new shoes for the ball.


	5. Almost Cinderella

The night of the grand party came. Lily had only had a moment to glance at the ocean. It didn't matter, not today of all days. She would see it after the party, the occasion that had the entire household, several dozen temporary employees, an orchestra, and all magazines, newspapers, and news stations that wanted the scoop that was promised during the event nervous in anticipation. All had their own ways to try to work away some of the nervous energy.

Sirene and Jesse were out of sight, helping each other 'prepare' for the night. All avoided the wing of the mansion, as everyone knew exactly what they were doing. The rooms were sound-proofed, for the reason that Derek Dalton would anticipate for a son of his, but all decided to give them privacy. The few that felt such a relationship didn't deserve privacy, this thought stemming from an intense dislike of Sirene, simply would rather pretend that they didn't see the tell-tale glances, the euphemisms, or know anything about it. Candy was simply disgusted with her friend. He didn't know that Sirene would be gone like a wisp of smoke on a rainy day the instant she had whatever it was she desired.

Mako and Candy helped Maddie with the last touches on the food. Massive quantities of hors d'ourves had been created by hand, everything from crab puffs to delicate tarts to exquisite spun sugar figurines dressed in marzipan clothing. Mako had resigned from his post as Sirene's secretary two months before. She had been angry, even furious, but after he had outlined a few points that only Lily and Sirene heard, she reluctantly released him from whatever it was he had done for her. He never would say exactly what his job had been, but instead ruled out any suspicious duties. Lily had made some sign at him, but he knew what was happening, and her part in the tale could come after Sirene departed. He told Candy that he would tell her after it all stopped being so strange.

Candy believed him, and was often caught smiling blissfully at the simple band of stainless silver with a cubic zirconia as the stone. He had wanted to provide a diamond and gold, saving until he had enough money to buy a proper ring. She had insisted that she would be happier with one that wouldn't tarnish, required no extra thought, and that she was far too clumsy to be wearing diamonds. He had acquiesced, glad to be spared of the task of ring-shopping. Candy was not one for gaudy rings with diamonds too large, and too small meant that he held no stock in the relationship, according to Jesse, who he had spoken with shortly. Sirene left no time for anything but the briefest of exchanges. She liked to stay busy, as giving him time to think was not a good thing for the type of relationship she had with the celebrity.

Derek Dalton was away on yet another date. He had called Dr. Stacy Grey, who had been the secret fan that treated Jesse a year ago the next day, hesitantly, sounding like some nervous schoolboy instead of an esteemed actor. She had readily agreed to lunch, to "discuss medical details for his new movie." Unlike most extended dates, she paid for dinner after lunch was covered by him. Money was not an issue with either of them. She was unlike any woman he had ever dated. He liked her for it, or perhaps even the other word that begins with L he had always used so lightly. With Stacy, he knew that there would be no such light assurances. If he said it, he better mean it. He liked that feeling, and didn't care who knew it.

The band had arrived in the morning, ready to find where they would be performing. Dr. Howard Sage had not said a word to the silent girl that led them to the alcove. He looked it over critically, finding nothing noteworthy. He took out a pitch-pipe, testing the acoustics of the room while the curtain was drawn. To his surprise, someone had put enough thought into the space that the area was tuned perfectly. He asked the girl who had made this area, and she had only pointed at herself before leaving quickly. She hadn't done it to be noticed by this director, however nice he was beneath a prickly exterior.

The most dedicated reporters had been camped out in the driveway for a week. Lily brought them in at noon sharp, gesturing for them to be silent so that the small orchestra could rehearse for a final time in peace. Quite a few shot questions before realizing she was mute. The uneasy new fact quieted them for a short while, until one newspaper reporter asked a short series of questions, mostly about the guest of honor. Lily answered readily, with gestures and movements of her head, but left before other followed the reporter's lead. However nice the woman had been, she had other things to do.

Lily kept herself occupied with as much work as she could find. Doing something constantly kept her from thinking. Thinking only made her consider what tomorrow was. It would be the one-year anniversary of what had happened. She had been accepted as a part of the staff the day after the incident. A full year had almost passed, and she barely realized it. _It was a waste_, she thought at first. _No, it wasn't. _Sirene had come only for some agenda related to Lily, and had brought Mako. He had found the way out of his agreement, with a little advice from Lily, and he and Candy were happy. The roses bloomed, and Lily thought they would continue to do so. She had danced for them, after all, and Maddie had told her that her dancing was pure emotion, just what the roses had needed. She picked a small bouquet of her roses for the ballroom, where their dark red would compliment the faint pink of the walls.

At last, the moment had nearly arrived. Lily had been wearing a plain outfit, dressy but able to blend into the background. A plain grey skirt, white blouse, pony-tail, and sensible dress shoes brought no attention. She would get attention in the outfit she would wear instead, and not of the lewd kind. Lily had always been demure in such matters, as in almost all things. She was nothing like Sirene, or so she hoped. Well, she had hoped so before. After seeing how effective looking and acting like Sirene was, she wondered if that was such a good thing.

The gown was a dark green. It was strapless, but sat comfortably below her shoulders, not too low or high. The bodice curved perfectly, fitted to her, and the skirts swirled with every motion. They were uneven, dark green with hints of iridescence in some patches. One side of the skirts dangled just below her knee, while the other reached her ankle. The evening dress was perfect for the occasion, dark and dramatic.

She did her hair, next. She had debated about doing one of the many fancy hairstyles Candy assured her were possible in just a quarter of an hour, but had made her decision long ago. She would wear her hair down, even if it did seem a last-ditch attempt at a metaphor. She had no pretenses left to keep. The reason she had come was gone, so she would leave with style. She brushed her hair, smoothing the blonde-brown waves.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The dress gave her a mysterious aura, some hint that she was not the simple maid she usually appeared to be. Her eyes were greyer than ever, but had an unmistakably blue tint. She twirled once before her reflection, smiling indulgently at her own silliness. She loved to watch the skirts rise and fall heavily as she moved, making her think of ripples and waves and liquid.

Finally, it was time for the shoes. She took out a box from her closet almost reverently, running her hand along the smooth cardboard. Her footwear was perfect for what she had planned. Checking her hands, she made sure that they were clean. No dirtiness could mar the beauty of the shoes it had taken her so long to find, even with Candy's help. Her hands, as always, were clean, if callused from long hours spent with her roses that drew blood as they warmed a heart.

They were ballet slippers, but without the hard toe of a professional ballerina. They were a deep green that matched her dress, satin and perfect in the glaring light of her half-bald lamp. She had meant to replace the light shade since the first week in the manor, but had forgotten. Unlike the many things elsewhere, she had no talent for remembering what went on in this small room.

She slipped them onto her feet, dreaming of Cinderella. This is how she must have felt, putting on glass slippers to go to a ball, never imagining that the prince would love her. Lily would rather have her shoes. Glass would be pretty, but not nearly as easy to dance in. Dancing as Lily knew it would break any set of heels, with leaps and landings that were not planned, but were a spontaneous expression of the moment.

She laced the ribbons up her calves. They crossed neatly, making her ankles look lighter than usual. She tied the bows carefully. They were discreet, but as perfect as she could make them. Large bows were too ostentatious for her tastes. Satisfied that they were on properly, she practiced a pair of simple leaps and a few quick steps, spinning to complete her test. As she had thought, they were perfect.

She looked into the back of her wardrobe, where dust gathered. The other item had been removed earlier, the dust shaken from it with vigor. There was one other thing in the shadows, a thing that she had not touched since her arrival here. She had not needed it, and remembered what was said of the thing. She turned it in her hands, watching it glint in the light. So odd, that such an object could be thought of as dangerous.

It was a pen. The nib was silver, but the rest was a clear emerald that, if opaque, would have matched her shoes. It sloped and curved gently, resembling the gentle waves of a calm sea. This harmless little pen was something that Lily had to fight the urge to throw away, to melt, to burn, to destroy. She knew what it could be.

She took a piece of paper from the untouched stack on the desk, and wrote a simple note on it. Lily knew that someone would be able to read it soon. She had not written since the day of her arrival, and she had taken back the small slip of paper. It wouldn't do for someone to translate it ahead of time. That would make her task easier, but would be cheating. She could not short the promise. It was the same for everyone, and would have been the same for her, except for a few important factors.

Yet again, the message was not in English. It was written in some other language, one that was spoken by few. Her name was in the message. Her cursive was painstakingly neat, even if the words were nonsensical. All would be clear, in time. She read over her message a final time, checking for errors, before setting it on her pillow. She doubted that she would sleep tonight.

The ball would begin in just a few minutes. Lily glanced at herself a final time, surprised at this sudden obsession with her reflection. She told that it came from being nervous, but knew the real reason. She just refused to admit it, to herself or anyone else. She would not bring up such a topic before the event. No matter how strong the feeling that everything would go horribly wrong, she would not ruin the party. She would leave pleasant memories behind, leaving wonder and, maybe, a little bit of regret. That would be enough. It had to be.

She would be leaving the next morning. No one else knew. She had not given any signal. She left her room resolutely. All that she would leave behind would be organized drawers with folded outfits, a few pairs of shoes, a dark green pair of ballet slippers, and a note. The pen would come with her. It was hers, after all, no matter how much she did not want the small object. She knew exactly what it was.

The party's guests were waiting outside. Derek would open the front doors at exactly seven, and not a moment earlier. Maddie, Candy, and Mako were having a quick discussion with the catering staff hired to keep a small buffet filled while offering drinks. Jesse and Sirene would make a grand entrance once the guests were in the ballroom. The band stopped their rehearsal, waiting for the guest of honor's arrival before they would play again. Video camera technicians checked microphones, cameras, feed, and the many other things that were a part of their job.

Lily made her way into the ballroom, walking past reporters and the band to a back corner. The large bouquet of roses, perfect and sweet-smelling, would hide her from the view of all but the most determined. This was the amount of attention she would prefer. She would not embarrass any involved, but would be a silent figure in the corner. She wouldn't draw attention from the media, who still craned to look at the entrance.

The reporter she had spoken to earlier had watched the girl past. She shook her head, knowing she had made a mistake. The reporter's smooth black hair waved abruptly, cut short to show that she was a woman who meant business. The female in the emerald evening gown was no girl. She was a woman, and the reporter was a fool for not guessing sooner. She swore by Japanese ancestors to talk to the gir- woman, after the mess of a party was done. No one mentioned her name yet, but someone here would know. Perhaps the woman who was supervising the caterers would. About to follow the woman, the reporter remained still. The party was starting, and her job depended on listing all events of the party. She had to know who was there, what they wore, what they ate, who they kissed, and exactly who the fiancée Jesse Dalton was rumored to announce was.

The guests looked around, in various stages of awe. Even the richest had not seen the room's like. It was something from a fairy tale, with the gauzy wall hangings. The caterers moved forward to offer food and drinks, somber in dark suits that weren't quite tuxedos or reserved black gowns that were as noticeable as a shadow in a dark room. The band was poised, ready to begin playing. The conductor watched the doorway, waiting for the grand entrance that meant music would begin.

Jesse Dalton looked like the prince from the book of fairy tales he had thrown into a shelf, as one would throw dirty socks into the hamper. His hair, bleached blonde from his frequent, if clumsy, surfing, was somehow mussed and perfect at once. He had brown eyes, and met the gaze of all the truly important reporters. It always was nice to have the press on one's side. His tuxedo was black, and it appeared to match his tie until the correct light made the dullest of purple apparent. But few eyes remained on him, as stunning as he was, when Sirene entered.

She smiled at the room, a chilling expression, but only a few people saw the coldness. She wore a low-cut evening gown of a fabric that matched his tie. It was a daring fit, but no one critiqued it. Instead, fashion reporters scribbled furiously, knowing that they had to get their assistants working immediately. By tomorrow, this new design of dress would be fashion. The reporters with cameras zoomed in to frame Sirene in the lens, for the moment ignoring the celebrity whose birthday they were there to celebrate.

Lily watched the two. They were perfect for each other. From what Candy had said, Jesse never had been a very nice person. From what Lily knew and could prove with examples, if any could ever understand, Sirene was never going to be a nice person. She may have been one once, long ago, but that time was over. This woman was no man's friend, not really, just as he was no woman's friend. Lily was disgusted to learn what "courtship" was among the rich, the famous,and the playboys of society.

He had been wrong for her all along. She just had been too blind to notice it. If he was wrong for her, then the fluttery feeling she had felt when she first met him was nothing but nervousness, and much more concern. She would be glad to leave. Perhaps Candy would miss her, and Maddie and Mako, but they would be all. Derek may miss having someone to tend roses, and she ignored the fact that he had once told her she was the most trustworthy girl he had ever met. His new girlfriend, the doctor, would make him forget about some girl he had hired. Mako and Candy would be happy together.

Maddie knew. Lily could only begin to say how Maddie had figured it out. The cook had been the one to help her to her room that first night of work, when Lily's sore feet were the worst they had ever been. It was a small comfort, that Maddie would know why she had to leave, why she could never stay. At least it was there. One person knew the truth. Mako had known her before, but she knew he couldn't speak of it. Maddie would.

Someday, after years had passed, Jesse may wonder in some passing thought where the silent girl who had once stood on a beach, looking at the water, had gone. He may mature, and find out that she had always felt a way that he could or would not reciprocate. He may not believe, but his kind rarely did. Even when the truth stands directly in front of them, dancing and humming and loving the roses to life, they do not see until it is gone.

Lily barely heard the music as the couple began to dance. They would have the first number all to themselves. The conductor had picked a relatively short one, not knowing if the pair could dance. He needn't have worried. Sirene led them serenely around the dance floor, and the pair only had eyes for each other. So it would seem, at least. Sirene looked away once, directly at Lily. It was a challenge and a triumph. Sirene had won, and next she would collect everything.

"Jesse," Sirene breathed in his ear. "The music is almost finished." She pouted, a flawless act. No one could see through it, unless they expected something else. Jesse expected only that she truly cared about him.

He loved her voice. It was the voice of the singer that had saved his life. He had told Candy this, the last time she spoke to him. Candy denied that this woman had saved his life. Jesse knew that she was probably just jealous. That was more than likely why she had forced Sirene's secretary to quit his job. Sirene had been mad about that, madder than he had ever seen her, though her control slipped only for a second.

"We have all night to dance," he said, just as quietly. Some conversations were not made to be shared with others. "And I have the most beautiful dancing partner here." This was slightly louder. He didn't care who heard his statement.

Lily did. She had watched them dance to the edge of the dance floor, and shivered to hear Sirene's voice. She still could hear the undertone to it, dangerous and wild. _He can say that, if he wants, _she told herself. _It'll take more than a few words to break my heart. _They were brave words, but true. He couldn't break her heart tonight, because he had done it about four months ago, when he welcomed someone new into the house without a single negative comment, or a rebuttal to anything said against her.

She wanted nothing more than to flee, to retreat, to stop torturing herself by watching. Instead, she was just another person watching the couple kiss quickly as the music ended. She was one of four people not holding an unwieldy object to clap for them. She was a good sport, but not that good. No one was.


	6. Ballet and Blood

The dancers broke apart, only after a prolonged kiss. Sirene left to charm all who came to see her. Almost every male in the room rushed to greet her, and she smiled coyly and flirted shamelessly with all from the youngest camera technician to the old mayor the small town. She met the rush of people without any difficulty, easily ignoring the glares from wives of those entranced by her beauty. Let them glare. Sirene was having fun.

Jesse fielded questions with no effort, giving little background about his companion. All knew that she was the fiancée he had hinted at in an earlier interview, but not one was foolish enough to ask just yet if she was the one. He would make his announcement when he was ready, and any reporter to violate the protocol would be thrown out and not invited back. That would not make an editor pleased in any way.

Maddie actually stopped him mid-sentence when the last of the reporters had a few questions. She insisted that it was time for the dancer, one that had agreed to grace the occasion with her skills. That interested him. No one had spoken of hiring a dancer, and he had seen no one enter. That could be because they planned it without his help, only asking for his preference in foods. It was his birthday, after all.

"Who is it?" He was curious. It was likely someone famous. Maddie would never ask anyone that was short of perfect. From what he heard, Lily had arranged the affair, but that didn't seem right. How would a maid know to create such grandeur? He made his own explanations, bending facts to fit.

"Lille." Maddie's tone was firm.

"Lily?" What on earth could she mean? "Lily's no dancer."

"How would you know?" Maddie sounded angry, as mad as she had been the day he had ejected Lily from his room. He hadn't seen the maid in awhile. He decided that she was avoiding him. Well, that was her loss.

"I just do," he answered, with the confidence that was a celebrity's son. "She would have shown me."

"Would she?" Maddie no longer sounded angry. Her voice was deceptively calm. "Go and ask her to dance. You have to do it. She won't unless you think she should, as it's your birthday." She continued at his skeptical look. "Do it. You won't regret it. She's behind the roses." Maddie turned on her sensibly low heel and left him to think.

He had nothing to lose. He answered a last few questions, thoughts distracted. He still managed a charming smile and responses with just the right amount of wit. Not too scathing, not too dull- that was how to do it. He had been taught the correct way since before he could even talk.

"Lily." He felt hesitant, even cautious, after approaching her when the reporters were reluctantly satisfied.. He could not begin to describe the feeling as shy. He was not shy. He was outgoing, and could do anything he set his mind to. He was the son of a movie star.

She had watched him approach, and had not missed encouragement from Maddie. What did he want? She was perfectly content in her corner, or so she let herself think. She wasn't about to make the risk of mingling among the crowd.

"Will you dance?"

Lily nodded, standing gracefully. She immediately headed for the conductor, letting herself into the alcove through a break in the curtain. She had felt that she needed to move. Dancing was traditional, after all. This was only a part of what had to happen.

He watched her walk away thoughtfully. She did not look like a maid, from the stance of her walk. She was someone worthy of being watched, someone who was used to stares. For a moment, she was a guest, and not someone who had been included only on the insistence of other people. He didn't know why he had spent time with her, before Sirene. He had probably just been lonely. That had to be it. His mind neatly clipped the idea away, labeling the pre-Sirene time as just fun.

Lily tapped the conductor on the shoulder as he looked through his folder. He frowned. No one should come into the band's space. He was about to reprimand her, but recognized the girl in time. Dressed in such a gown, she had looked like a guest, and not the shy planner of the party. He didn't have to say a word as she nodded to the typed repertoire of the orchestra, but only handed it to her.

Lily scanned the list of songs, choosing one she was familiar with. The conductor nodded. The cook had told him that the party may be graced with a solitary dancer. This girl may just have the knack, he observed as she ignored all curious stares as she strode to the center of the dance floor. All other dancers were politely refused permission to enter the area. The spotlight would be hers.

Lily stood poised, a bird waiting for some signal before taking off. The curious crowd became a blur dotted with a few familiar figures. She saw only one person, and knew exactly who she was dancing for. Reciprocation was no longer an issue. This was her one chance to tell everyone what she had come to this place for. Words would not be enough, even if she had them, but the dance just may be.

The first notes of the clarinet slid through the air, the opening to George Gershwin's _Rhapsody in Blue. _With her first movements, Lily attracted the eye of all who had hoped to pass the time in conversation. There was some greater meaning behind the small motions as she slowly began a dance that was not quite ballet, or contemporary, or medieval, or any other type known to people. She moved slowly without trouble, but was ready for the quick change in tempo. She knew this piece of music, and could feel the time changes would affect the dance.

She spun in a blur of flashing emerald, pirouetting to the furious sound of the brass in their full glory. She was everything that anyone had ever imagined, as the bars of that particular piece filled the air with music. She was every dream of moving fluidly come to life in stunning clarity. She was the hope that someone might just understand how she, or he, felt inside. While being all these intangible things brought into a real being, she was also Lille Havfrue, dancing for someone who felt only the dim need to patronize her.

The camera men followed her almost blindly, while assistants furiously checked to make sure the quality of the tape was not lost. The video was fed to a remote truck and recorded. No one wanted to lose this footage. The world deserved to see this grace. It would. Posters and picture-postcards would be made by sunset the next day, and dancers would peer anxiously at this new competition, trying to recapture what she had done.

Lily leapt, and all watching felt a tug of hope except for two. Sirene smiled, an expression not meant to be pleasant. No dance could win over her heart. She was older than she appeared, and had been through more sorrow than any person here could guess. Jesse still saw only what he wanted to. Reality was much more challenging than his mind, as his mind boxed emotions as "black" or "white," and reality was fond of greys.

She paused once, and the director, watching as avidly as all with cameras and members of the band not needed to play, held his arms out in a sudden fermata. There was no need. Even the players, instruments to lips, on hand, or with bow to string, were watching the performance, following her lead instead of his. She pointed with her eyes, looking only at one person, and no one else.

He did not know that this was no place in the music to hold a note. He saw that she looked at him, and easily disregarded that. It was a celebration of his birthday, after all. He was an adult now, and could decide anything he wished without consent of his father. For some reason, Derek had disliked Sirene, but that was no longer of importance. Jesse was a man. He could decide such things for himself.

The rest of the dance was just as perfect. She _was_ the music. The conductor had realized the futility of his presence minutes ago, and only watched. The band had opened the gossamer curtains that separated them from fully viewing the spectacle, and any playing stood to make sure they could watch the one keeping their tempo. She never faltered or slowed, except when The Music seemed to demand it from her. She did not pause again, knowing that her target did not understand.

She danced to the last portion with a furious abandon, using her last reserves of strength. Her landings from wild leaps made dull thuds. Her free hair seemed to tangle itself into elf-knots of its own creation. Her spins were no longer controlled, but had a life of their own and she seemed not likely to stand straight again at their completion. The dress seemed to dance with her, opposite her motions. The uneven skirt spun like some partner she could not quite control, but she did not notice. All that mattered was the music.

The song ended. Lily curtsied, sweeping the longer part of her skirt to the side as she made one last slow pirouette. It was different than usual etiquette, but somehow just right. She was gone from the dance floor before a stunned crowd could break into applause. She had not done it for approval from the masses. She had danced at the request of one person, and he had missed the meaning completely.

She stumbled once, involuntarily wincing when she caught herself. The crowd parted, uncertain about whether to applaud as she walked through them. Maddie sat her in a chair without prelude. She knew that Lily's feet had hurt since she had come to the manor, but after the first two days of walking, she had not made any sign of pain. Maddie knew the girl well enough that a wince meant she was seriously hurt.

Jesse was at her side, actually impressed for once. The crowd had moved aside for him, but with more thought. He wanted to ask a dozen questions at once, but Maddie and Candy were giving him stern looks. He chose one.

"Lily- where did you learn that?" He felt that it was his right to know.

Lily shrugged, pointing at herself. No one else had taught her how to react to music.

"Why didn't you do it before? Could you do it again? Could you teach someone else?" All questions were met with a shrug. She was in less of a mood for conversation than usual, and did not even try to get him to understand the simple words that Maddie, Candy, Mako, and she had paired with gestures.

Jesse began to take credit for her accomplishments already. She could be in his next movie. She wouldn't be the star, of course. She had no big name, and her stage presence wouldn't be enough for the type of movie he and his father had planned. But he already could envision a stellar dance sequence, as she did the doubling work for some co-star she could try to resemble.

Lily tried to stand. Not even Jesse missed the grimace on her face when a ballet-slippered foot touched the ground. She sat back down quicker than she meant to, collapsing into the chair. By now, several cameras and their crews had gathered near, shoving microphones in Jesse's face as they fired questions at him.

Maddie ushered them away, and for a moment looked formidable. The fifty-something woman, a little on the plump side, frowned severely, anyone's grandmother who meant what she said and said what she meant. She would not have anyone crowding the two. The presence of Candy and Mako was allowed, as they were far better to Lily than Jesse was. From her guarded watching of Jesse, his right to be present was revocable.

Jesse had reached to take off the slippers, but Lily's hand stopped his. She touched it, and that was enough. She seemed to be saying something with her eyes, an insistent whisper that he almost could hear.

"Lille?" He sounded less like a self-assured celebrity's son when he said her name, just as she, for an instant on the dance floor, had been a famous dancer who could command men to do most anything with the beauty of her motions.

She drew her hand back, hesitantly. She only watched as he untied the satin ribbons of emerald as she sat in the chair. He lifted her foot, untangling the ribbons easily. Candy remembered again that her friend had entertained more than a few amateur ballerinas in his time, maids who were "unworthy of such attentions." He always had been a liar.

Lily's feet were covered in blood. It came from nowhere and everywhere her feet touched the ground. The red liquid dripped to the floor, staining the pale pink carpet with a mark the shape of half a heart. A second drop followed before one of the caterers laid down a dark towel used for cleaning up spills. There was a gasp from the crowd, a collective intake of air that was shared by all who saw her but Lily, Sirene, and Maddie. Those three knew that her feet would not be perfect.

Her other foot was the same. Dr. Stacy Grey had left the company of Derek for a moment, concerned with this quiet girl. She had heard only good things about her from Derek, and had confessed the beautiful rose he had given to her was grown by Lily. She could think of no medical reason for such a thing, and one look at her escort told her that this was not something he knew of.

Jesse had an almost charitable thought, a rare occasion. Lily could not stand. She had already danced. She would not mind missing the rest of the evening, then. He lifted her into his arms without as much as a by-your-leave. Who would not want such a thing to happen, after all? Surely Lille would not protest. She had been too easily swayed by him saying her name. She wanted something more than whatever they had now, which in his experience was a common emotion.

Lily did not protest. She wouldn't have, even with a voice. This was the closest she had ever been to him. Jesse Dalton was close to fans, hugging and playfully kissing without thought, but even on that last morning of happiness, he had closed himself away from her. She held the ribbons to her slippers in her fingers. She felt herself move throughthe crowd. She had closed her eyes the instant she knew that he would not hand her away to someone else, ignoring curious glances from the crowd.

He said nothing. He did not make any consolations that her feet were bleeding. He did not comment that her dancing had been beautiful, the most graceful thing he had ever seen. He did not say that he had missed their tentative friendship. Most of all, he did not say that he would miss her when he returned to the party. Even if any of the above statements were true, especially since they were, he would not lose his pride because of a mute serving girl who could not be more.

He forgot one thing. She was not one of the girls who took meaning from every hair, from every breath, from every word. She saw significance, but was far more direct. Had she a voice, she would have stated how she felt. A blunt honesty had been her usual downfall, as she would not tell a lie or half-lie through some self-imposed code of honest. Instead, Lily waited for some sincere declaration he would not provide.

He found her room only with her help. She pointed to the correct hallway, and then selected the proper door. He found the light-switch with some difficulty, letting the light fully reveal the room before he would try finding the bed. He set her on it gently, with only the smallest of impatient jars, before looking around.

The room was small, and bare. It was a nicely sized room, for a normal house. This was a mansion. The sparse furniture was more than adequate, but lacked personality. The only possessions in view were a few plain skirts and blouses hanging in the closet and an emerald pen that she had used to write some short note in her illegible language. Only two words were recognizable, and they made up her name.

"I'll see you at sunrise," he said abruptly before leaving the room. He knew what he was saying. He would go out to the beach with her, and find once again the morning routine that he sometimes found himself missing. She was quiet and contemplative where Sirene was brash and shallow. He left before he could see a response.

Lily watched him go. He wanted to come to the beach again? Why would he do such a thing? Perhaps he just wanted to be rid of her as an annoyance. He hadn't even complimented her dance, but had thought only of The Movie. She knew that look as well as anyone by now. She stood, ignoring the blood that tainted the floor in a short series of footprints, and walked to her note with a ferocity that would make a tigress back down. She had one final group of words to add.


	7. Midnight to Sunrise

The party far exceeded any other within the last four years, since the night a singing star had staged an open-invitation wedding. The reporters would have more than enough material to last for weeks, if they played their cards right. Maddie frowned that Lily didn't return, but knew that her feet had been in far worse condition than usual. Putting all of one's heart into something made anything more wonderful than ever before, but was not kind to the strength of the one to do such a thing. Lily had overdone herself, though Maddie thought the dance had been the epitome of recorded performance. They had played the tape for the guests, and it captivated the second time. Only the target of the dance and the woman he had announced as his fiancée were unaffected.

The night went smoothly. The band had drawn its curtain, and now played music of that vein, modern pieces that were recognizable but not pop culture. No one could even come close to matching the departed dancer, but very few tried. The catering staff moved from the appetizers to the desserts when the last of the trays were empty. The drinks were switched to a lower grade of alcohol. No one but the tabloids wanted an extremely drunk set of the richest residents of the upper West Coast in the same room.

Maddie kept one of the desserts aside at the last moment during one of her few trips to give the food a final check. The ballerina, a spun sugar figure wearing a dress made from sugared rose petals, was for Lily, who could use her rest. The rest were not as special, but had initials of the star honoree and a birth date worked into almost every piece. A few were based on fairy tales, a small set that was greeted with a few appreciative looks.

Jesse, as the birthday honoree, chose first from the group. He took a delicate figure of a princess, eating the skirts first without a second glance at the delicate work in marzipan and granules of sugar. Sirene was second. She chose a mermaid, one with a pale pink tail and paler skin. She bit off the head, not noticing the hopeful expression on the sugar mermaid's face. Maddie and Mako exchanged a look that only Candy noticed.

For once, the usually impassive Mako looked troubled over something. He could not explain to Candy, instead remarking what a shame it was that the mermaid hadn't been admired. She readily agreed. Maddie had worked especially long on the tail of the mermaid, which she had given careful detail to resemble scales. Mako had disapproved of the typical heart-shaped tail, instead sketching one that looked like a partially opened paper fan. He claimed the other type of tail would never work on a marine creature, and Maddie believed him. He was a shark expert, but he knew about tails.

Derek Dalton was beaming before the party even ended. His insider among the reporters had whispered during an interview that the reviews would be good. Derek hardly had to worry about the money, but he hated negative publicity about his works. He was about to bring his son into the business, and it wouldn't do for the father's image to be bad. Jesse had planned originally on just coasting with his father's wealth, but Derek had convinced him that the work would be a welcome distraction. His son was a decent actor, even if the only roles he would be good at were the "bad good guy" or the surly son of a famous spy.

Stacy Grey had worried about the dancer's feet. It was not at all natural for that much blood to be present without a cut or abrasion or some sort. The cook, who knew the maid best, had said that it was a chronic condition aggravated by dancing with such intensity. Madeline had only said to the doctor that she didn't know the name of the condition, as she was no scientist. Stacy watched her, suspicious. Such a smart woman would know a thing or two- what was there to hide about the bleeding? Lily was clever enough to know if something was dangerous. That would have to be enough for Stacy, though her doctor's intuition was decidedly restless.

Far from the noise, glamour, and social closeness that was a grand old party, a girl sat silently on her bed, knees drawn to her chest. She leaned against the wall, staring out the window and dreaming. She hummed a tune to herself, a sad song that didn't make her feel any better. She closed her eyes, but didn't sleep. Instead, she listened to the crash of waves as it overlapped with the muted curses of the catering staff in the kitchen and the further party. She opened her eyes to look at the moon's placement, ruining her illusion of some nonsensical arrangement of the noises. There still was time before dawn, if he meant what he had said to her.

Six hours past midnight, Jesse Dalton finally decided to make his announcement. Everyone there knew exactly what he was going to say, but the people outside who would watch happily through programs that let the common folk "connect" with the aloof celebrities. Sirene would appear shocked and blissfully delighted, Derek would look proud but surprised, the crowd would break into carefully choreographed spontaneous cheering as cameras panned to catch famous figures, and everyone would be happy.

He did not even have to move. The cameras adjusted, and the crowd grouped itself so that the couple of the hour could be seen. A few makeup experts from the local stations rushed forward, making sure there would be no flaws in front of cameras. The tuxedo was adjusted, the tie freshly knotted, and a stylist checked his hair against the latest polls of fans. No one did anything to change Sirene's appearance. Besides the fact that she looked perfect already, she seemed dangerous.

Sirene kissed him, more for the cameras than anything else. She was an actress to rival any of his father's latest on-screen interests, and had the looks to match. He was brought back to the events of one day short of a year ago, when someone had given him CPR in an attempt to save him. He had known that Sirene saved his life for the last few months, after he asked her if she had found him that day and she confirmed his guess with a few flirting words.

_He was sliding from the surfboard. He felt himself slowly slipping to the right. He would fall off. She was moving so fast. Maybe she meant to kill him, to leave him even farther out in the ocean. He had heard of such people, fans so neurotic they actually desire to kill the object of their attentions. He felt that sinking feeling again, that he would die and could not do a thing._

_She centered him on the surfboard, slowing down to do so. "You're doing fine," she said, trying to encourage him. "Almost there. I can see the shore by your house." She held his hand, telling him to grab on if he needed to. He squeezed as tightly as he could, which wasn't much. He needed to make sure that she was still there, that he wasn't imagining a rescue as he lay dead in the water. "We're almost on the beach. Just-"_

"Relax," Sirene said in her beautiful voice. "I love you, don't I?" she teased gently, letting him answer, as she always did.

"As much as I love you," he responded, as he always did. The memory had come quickly. He hadn't had flashbacks before. He had heard of such lapses in memory, and knew that such vivid images usually were a sign of post-traumatic stress syndrome. He doubted he would develop such things this late. He was probably just nervous. That was odd. He didn't feel nervous.

_He felt hard pressure on his chest, someone shoving hard enough to bruise. "Breathe, damn you!" she hissed. He was mostly unconscious still, leading to one of many half-formed memories that haunted his mind. She forced her lips against his again. They were salty, as if the taste never left, and soft enough that the muscles in them were a surprise. She pressed fingers to his neck for an instant, a flutter as she tried to find a pulse. "Jesse, why won't you hang on for just-"_

"One more moment," Sirene said to a reporter, kissing her fiancée yet again. This time, he remembered something far more important.

_He had started to breathe, but that talent was lost again. He was dangerously close to blacking out permanently, and could still hear Aisling screaming his name. His rescuer had come back for a moment, because she knew as well as he did that he was running out of air. She had tried cursing and pressing, forced breaths and insulting everything possible about him in an attempt to get him to retort. "Don't die on me," she said, sounding truly worried. She could have been his best friend, not some girl from the sea he had never laid eyes on. "Come on. Just try to breathe. In. Out. In. Out."_

_He did try. The air escaped him in sharp gasps, and he couldn't pull it through his lungs. She kissed him then, on the forehead. "Start breathing and I'll give you a proper kiss," she said, desperate for some new strategy. He managed just at that moment, by chance or objective he still couldn't tell. "Stayere." It wasn't very articulate, but she understood. "I'll be back for you, Jesse. Your step-mother is here." And then she was gone, leaving him to unconsciousness and considering a promise she had made to save his life. "I'll be back. I have a kiss for-"_

"You are taking a while to tell them, Jesse," Sirene whispered in his ear.

"Let them wait. You never mentioned your promise to me, Sirene. Why?" She had never given too many details, calling the entire experience traumatic for both of them.

"Is this the time for that?" she asked, glancing at the diamond ring he held in his hand. He had given it to her before, but this was the time to formally present such a gift.

"Yes." He heard something he never before had noticed in her voice. Sirene's words had a hissing undertone. Her voice was not the same as the clear voice on the beach. He had guessed it to be so, but never had heard such clear flashbacks. "It is the time for that, because you aren't who you say you are." Sirene had not saved his life.

"My son has an announcement to make," Derek announced, not knowing the topic the two were discussing. "Jesse?"

"I wouldn't marry her if she was the last murderous spawn of a viper on earth," he said calmly to the cameras, ignoring shocked looks as well as cold approval from Candy, Maddie, and Mako. "If you'll excuse me, the sun's about to rise." He left with dignity, the reason that Candy, Maddie, and Mako were still so cold to him. He should have run to her. She had waited long enough, and the entire unlikely trio knew it.

Candy glared, stopping only when Mako touched her hand gently. He always was so careful, so hesitant about contact. She had only asked him about the subject once, and his discomfort had been enough that she had never again felt the urge to ask. He understood how she felt. He knew something more about Lille Havfrue, though he never said a word, and his fully black eyes showed nothing.

Madeline pursed her lips and left the ballroom with considerably less pomp. She went directly to his room. Rooting through his closet, she found what she had given to him months ago. It had been rudely shoved under a few very boring treatises on marine life that described dolphins as fish, which meant they were old enough to be useless except for interesting illustrations. She did find the book she wanted, and set it on his pillow. If he didn't read it now, she would read it to him. He had to know what had happened for the year, what he had missed. She would make sure of it.

The sun was rising. Lille had left her room, barefoot and carrying only a pen that glinted like cold emeralds. She paid no attention to a pale trail of blood that followed her. The floors were not her responsibility. Maddie could find someone else, and Derek could just be happy with the short time the roses had been tended, unless he found another person to love them. Jesse could just marry Sirene, for all she cared.

She stood in reach of the surf. Her footprints that made a dotted line across the beach were already fading into the nondescript pattern and sand, and there was no other trace. She would be gone, with only a note, bloody ballet slippers, and the sickly markings of dried blood left behind as mementos. The blood could be cleaned away, and the note shredded, but she hoped the slippers were at least given a proper grave look before being thrown away. She had loved those shoes, as much as she could ever care for a pair of inanimate objects. They had made her feel like she could dance better than ever before, with such footwear to exhibit.

Lille spun the pen around her fingers, faster and faster. It was a green blur, with only a twinkle of silver to mark the writing end of the pen. She could see what it truly was. It would be something else when she had that decision to make. She planned to not be tempted at all. She did think that she would do the right thing, but some people were annoying and selfish enough to make the choice difficult.

She remembered the first time he had really spoken to her. Their first meeting had not been of any real importance. He was too shocked to really say anything, or look at her in any special way that seemed to be popular in romantic accounts of life. What he had said around Maddie did not count. His first true words to her she never could have predicted, not in a thousand years, not with ten thousand guesses.

_"Listen, Lille, if that's even your real name. I don't want you anywhere near me. Do you understand that, mutie?"_

That was far from a good first impression. She would like to have ignored it completely, but life was too cruel to those who tried to forget all the bad things. Her family was a prime example of that. She was the last of them, a girl who still had believed in magic and true love and the inevitability of reciprocation. It would seem that it was not to be.

Lille liked to think that the morning on the beach had been the first time that they truly had met. She had seen a different side of him. _He isn't always an arrogant jerk, _she reflected. There were flashes of a good person that made his usual personality even harder to accept. He could be a decent sort of person, if he ever felt the inclination. She could think of a million things she could say, but not one that she would.

The highest rim of the sun protruded over the horizon. Dawn was coming, faster than she had guessed. It was a beautiful sunrise. Lille knew that it would be the last she would watch for years. Even a gray and overcast day where fog obscured the sun would be gorgeous. She would find some compliment for a day when it didn't rise at all. For that morning, all she could say was that the world's finest artists, with unlimited watercolors and canvas and time, could never make such a masterpiece.

"Lily!"

She ignored the voice. She could distinguish his voice among any crowd, but the sunrise was nearly complete. She would be a story to whisper of to children, not a real person who got away. Derek would age, then die and forget. Candy would learn the truth from Mako, if Maddie didn't tell her first. But Jesse would not. Maddie could give hints, but Lille knew that he would have to ask. No one would give away her secret.

"Lille, I'm not marrying Sirene!" The source of the voice had moved closer, and she could hear the telltale squeak of someone running across sand. There was an urgency to the words that he could not begin to explain.

She did not turn around, but instead stared at the sun, willing it to move faster. She would not be tempted to save herself. That was not how this was supposed to go. She would be free, but not all who had come before and after her. This was destiny, how it was meant to be. Everything was as clear as the shallow waves that lapped closer and closer to her feet, gentle but strong.

"Lille." He was directly behind her, breathless and confused. Why wouldn't she look at him? He felt the ego that was always at the corner of his mind, some vision in the edge of his sight, rise angrily. _She _should look at _him_. He shouldn't be the one to do the work in the relationship. What could she possibly have to hold herself as better than him?

She knew that she still had a minute before the sun cleared the water. The pen was in her hand, and she kept it firmly by her side. She stared at him, unflinching, meeting his gaze without a single trace of shyness. He could remember her. Her last impression would be that she was strong, unwilling to wait, and resolute. She could not always be the quiet nice girl. She had to stand up for herself.

He didn't know what to say to Lily. She was alien to him suddenly. Had she always had that spark of boldness? He realized that he couldn't remember. He met her eyes, but had to look away. They were a brilliant blue, and matched the sea perfectly. They were wild and beautiful and dangerous and captivating, and he could get lost in them. Her hair flowed in a light breeze, a golden curtain that rippled on the breaths of wind. Her gown was perfect, skirt ruffling around her legs with a life of its own. She was not human. She was something more than human.

She placed a finger on his lips, a simple gesture the Lily he thought he had known would never do. She peered at him intently, as if memorizing his face. She still did not say a word, but instead smiled. The pen felt heavy in her hand. Defiantly, she threw it to the side. It landed to the side, digging itself into the sand. She would do what she had to.

The sun had only the smallest of edges beneath the waves. Lille leaned forward, with an expression that suggested she had a secret to tell her. He realized for the first time that she was just a scant inch shorter than him, and that he had no trouble looking into her eyes. He never had come that close before. Something had always stopped him.

Lille kissed him square on the mouth, gone before he could even recognize the sensation. She was wading into the water, and the waves lapped enough to tug at her ankles. She turned this time when he called her name. The waves only reached her knees. Lille ignored the water that was slowly darkening to a purple that was almost black.

"Lille-" he began, not knowing what to say.

"My name is Aquiline." This time, the familiar voice had no bitter or angry undertone. He knew that this was the girl that saved his life, more than he had known anything else. "And it's time for me to go. My promise is fulfilled." She was careful to keep regret from her voice. He had been given a chance. Regret was too close to sadness, and sadness would lead only to self-pity. Anger was safe.

Her dress moved without any further puff of wind. It spiraled around her legs, sparkling in the light. She was silhouetted against the rising sun, and the details were lost in the stark shadow. The skirt melded into itself as it wove about her legs, leaving an emerald fish's tail that reached to just below the arms. She made a perfect dive with an arc impossible for a human, and there was a flash of metallic green in the first of morning's sunlight. For a mermaid, such dives were easily made.

With a foreboding feeling, he watched as the waves that touched his feet were, for just a few seconds, a dark shade of purple that he could recognize. He finally had placed the other voice of Sirene. Sirene had been the squid-woman-monster that had attacked him. He just had been too closed-minded to realize it. A tentacle waved above the water, next to a blonde-haired head that appeared above the water for the shortest of instants. A transparent tail splashed as she swam away, following a squid. She was gone, and no one was at fault but himself.


	8. An Ending

Jesse did not know how he made it back into the room. He had been outside for hours, it seemed. Only twenty minutes had passed, but it was enough. He knew that she would not be back. He could only just remember how to reach the house. He was not surprised to find Candy, Maddie, and Mako in Lille's empty room, gathered around a note as they had some discussion.

"This is insane," Candy announced, looking at the other three when she noticed Jesse enter. "If anyone else ever heard a hint of this, we'd be in the best psychiatric facility money could buy. I knew that there was something different about Lille, but this is nonsensical."

"No, it's just something that doesn't happen every day." Maddie knew, but couldn't explain why she had no doubts. "That's why it's amazing. Lille was a special girl, you know." She didn't seem to notice Jesse's wince as she spoke. "The major corps de ballet of almost every area is already calling, and I had to say that she left for personal reasons at least forty times this morning."

"It's simple," Mako said, less phased than Maddie. He had been no stranger to mermaids. "Aquiline, as she was named at birth, was and is a mermaid. She could not speak for the year she was on land, per an agreement with the sea-witch. As she received no declarations of love within her year, her power to gain legs was taken away and she gets to serve the sea-witch for eternity. The squid-woman, as Jesse may know her, decided that cutting out tongues was a bit too medieval, and that she could use a bit of help. Killing the mermaids is just a waste of rare resources. That's her usual take on the deal, as mermaids are much harder to come by. Unless I'm wrong, Aquiline was the last of the merfolk not old enough to be a crone."

"How did you know her name?" Jesse asked. How did he know? Aquiline had only said her name just before leaving. Mako hadn't been anywhere in the area.

"How did you know all the other details?" Candy had not told him that a squid had attacked Jesse. She didn't recall ever telling him about the attack. He simply had known before she had said a word.

Mako shrugged. "Candy, you're the one who knows about marine biology. Mako is not a traditional name for a Pacific Islander, as far as I can remember." It was harder to say than he had guessed.

"Mako. As in the shark. As in one of the fifteen species known to eat people, or is that just a myth, too?" Candy had known something was odd about her fiancée. She just hadn't guessed that he had some connection to sharks.

"I was a shark, but I was born a man. For a few hundred years, I was the classic henchman. Aquiline showed me how to get out of my old . . . obligations. She didn't say a word," he added quickly, seeing looks on the others' faces. "She just made a few very meaningful gestures. I couldn't help her with hers." It seemed that there was a final piece of explanation that was needed. "Sirene is the sea-witch. She came here to cause havoc and try to collect a new person to take home with her. She usually tries to find princes, but in this age, a celebrity would do."

"Sirene?" Candy and Jesse said at once. That couldn't be right. Maddie had suspected that she was something more than the usual unsavory character, but that was yet another extreme. He had guessed, but never assumed that he could be right.

"Yes. Sirene. She finds most people adrift in a fishing boat." He paused, remembering some long ago day. "But the sea-witch has always loved the usually unattainable, dropping any new playmate the instant she's bored. She's been around for longer than people realize."

"She can't be that old," Jesse scoffed, almost hesitantly. He wouldn't fall for anyone over forty at the most, would he?

"Have you ever heard of Aphrodite, the woman to wash onto a Grecian shore to be worshipped as a goddess? Did Nimue ever appear in a story you read, the woman who trapped Merlin in a cave of his own creation? That was when she gained real power. Greece gave her immortality and arrogance. Merlin gave her anger and power." Her story was old, and longer than any time would give for telling. He did not know even half of it, and likely had only an eighth after a few hundred years.

"That was her?" Candy had actually heard of the people he mentioned, both assumed fictional. But if mermaids were real, who else could be? For all she knew, dragons still lived in caves and breathed fire at knights.

"Yes. She was the one that Hans Christian Anderson wrote of, and Aquiline's many-times-great aunt was the mermaid. Aquiline never did mean to fulfill the usual destiny of her family, but certain events made that day happen. She had vowed to never seek out the sea-witch, but hadn't guessed that the witch would threaten any lives. No one in her family ever did succeed, and she is the last." He spared no words, and blunted no statements. He always favored the full truth, however hard to take.

"She is the last of her family? Why wouldn't she just marry a merman?" Candy was curious. Couldn't Aquiline have found someone? There was no need to be picky.

"Since the first days that a daughter of the sea died loving a man of land, no sons have been born. Only when the sea's girl-child finds her prince's love will the mermaids become a true race again." He decided that the rather depressing topic had been covered. No one needed to hear of the sadness as the last of the males died away, leaving mer-wives with long periods of pregnancy to sing and cry. Their songs had not enticed sailors, but distracted them to be so lonely and heartsick that their very boats sang with the grief.

Candy agreed. "Maddie, you've been holding that note since before sunup. Can someone else see it now?" She wanted to see the last words of her friend, and had to pretend that Lille was only out to town. She couldn't let herself remember that the girl who had encouraged Mako was gone. Lil-_Aquiline,_ she reminded herself, had been the one to tell Mako to pop the question. She knew him as well as Candy did through past experience, sometimes better. Aquiline had known of his nature.

"It's all nonsense. She wrote it with that pen of hers, more than likely. Nothing in this house has green ink. The way she guarded that pen, it was some dangerous thing that would run away, given the chance." Maddie still relinquished the note, wondering about Lille's odd behavior. All she had been holding was that emerald pen, dressed for an evening about the town as she stood on the front porch of a manor, barefoot and with bleeding feet.

"It turned into that," Jesse said, pointing at the dagger that he had lain across the desk for lack of a better place to put it. "She threw it to the side, and when it hit the sand, it turned into the dagger." He repeated himself, still trying to process the idea.

"She could have freed herself entirely from the promise by killing you," Mako said, turning his always unreadable gaze to the knife. "That's always the deal. Not a single mermaid has ever accepted the proposition, and not one has been loved."

"There's writing on this," Candy interrupted. She had borrowed it from a reluctant Maddie. Seeing the imminent protest, she continued quickly. "In English, too. The first line makes no sense, though." She frowned. "Lille Havfrue, Copenhagen." That sounded familiar, though she couldn't place it. Lille decided to just read the note, as six eyes watched her raptly.

_"Lille Havfrue- Copenhagen_

_A year on land to gain his love_

_A year given legs, but no voice_

_No words to give minds a desired shove_

_And then, after year passes, a choice._

_Take the dagger in a hand_

_And then choose if you shall kill_

_Kill him and leave, debt free, from land_

_If he lives without love, an eternity of witch's will._

_Mako, she will not trouble you. I am the replacement- she said as much to me, one night when all others were sleeping. Maddie, star in that show. I heard that telephone call, and you can do it. My year of wages is yours to get your feet off the ground, and your name into the spotlights. Candy- you'll have a byline of your own. Don't let your parents dictate your life. Congratulations to you and Mako, by the way. This entire note may sound overly sentimental, but this is only what I've felt like saying all year._

_Only one who knows my secret before pen turns to dagger, or one in love, can comprehend the script from a cursed pen. Tell _him _what you will._

_-Aquiline"_

Candy stopped before reading the last lines of the first page. Jesse had glanced over her shoulder, and had been following along as she read. He could see the script. She folded the note, not letting him reach the last two sentences. She had a few questions to ask.

"When did you know she was a mermaid?" Candy demanded. "It's important. I'll explain later. When?"

"I only figured it out when she sprouted a tail." He was impatient. Why was she playing Trivial Pursuit now, of all times?

"After she threw the dagger?" Candy prompted.

"Yes, but-" He tried to finish his statement. Candy wouldn't let him.

"No buts. You read what she wrote." She snapped the note open, reading the last two lines. "You're in love with her, and have been since before just this morning." The words were an accusation.

Jesse considered the revelation. Was that love? He remembered their first meeting, when she had been in his room. No, that didn't really count. The first dinner they had shared had not been at all a pleasant affair. The first words he planned to say to her were horribly rude, and he hated to even think of what he had said, and who he had been.

_That's a lie_. He had not really changed. He had been a jerk even until last night. He still _was _a jerk. Lille was gone because he had not been the charming, suave, and all-around nice guy he had always presumed himself to be. Her name may be Aquiline, but he still couldn't help but think of her as Lille.

"I'd have to say that's true," he admitted, almost sheepishly. _You shouldn't be ashamed, _he told himself mentally. _You're Jesse Dalton- she should be pleased to have known you for a year. _For the first time in his life, he knew how ridiculous that thought was. She hadn't chosen to spend time on land. She had agreed to save his life.

_"I'll do it," a voice promised. He was sinking into the ocean, constricted with tentacles. Now, he knew that the voice he had guessed to be angelic belonged to Aquiline. "Let him go."_

_"Will you indeed?" Sirene's voice was nothing like the manner of speech she had borrowed from Aquiline. It was cold and grating, a cruel hiss that still made him shudder. That was not the voice she had used on land. An unused voice could be borrowed easily, especially when the borrower had studied with Merlin. _

_"Yes. I swear on the spirits of my ancestors to follow the promise." He could hear in her voice that she had lifted her head, trying to be proud as she tried to avoid acknowledging that she had agreed to the deal that had left so many dead or worse._

_"Then go. At sunup tomorrow, you will not use your voice for a full year. Your tail will split, and it will be as painful as always. The usual description is having the entire lower half twain with a sword. For each step you take, it will feel as if you dance on daggers. You have one year on land to win the heart of your noble little princeling." Here, the tentacles gripped tighter for a moment and retreated slightly from the area of his eyes. They swelled the instant the pressure was gone, and he could not see a thing. "You will only gain control of the changing from mermaid to land-maid if he proclaims his love."_

_"I know. That's enough formalities. I understand about the dagger, and killing him now is hardly sporting of you." She was not at all surprised with the'new' conditions. They had been the same for eighteen of her cousins, all now dead. Service to the sea witch was deadly, or at least indirectly deadly. All had killed themselves within six years. _

_"Fine." The tentacles fell away, releasing his limp body. "But just remember. Never forget. You have one year, and then you are mine for eternity. Kill him if you dare, but you're too like your family. Weak, simple, silly- all of you are the same."_

_"I would rather die a thousand deaths than become someone like you," she retorted defiantly. "Now leave me be. He's a sick prince." She knew he wasn't really a prince, but Sirene didn't. Yet. The deal usually didn't apply to any who wasn't royalty, but Sirene would make an exception for the last of Aquiline's dynasty. "Once I'm gone, she wins," she said, knowing that Jesse was in no condition to hear her. "But she won't. I know that there's some good in you." _

Why was he remembering too late? He ignored all lectures he had ever heard about the mind's natural amnesia. Many scenes were deleted, to only come back later in less stressful time. He didn't notice that a few minutes had passed, or that three people were staring at him.

"Why didn't I know that she was the one?" He didn't seem to know that he was speaking out loud.

"Because she was right in front of you." Candy sounded sympathetic, for a change. He truly was grieving that Aquiline was gone. "And I found Lille Havfrue of Copenhagen in a search engine. That's the name given to the statue of the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen Bay, Denmark. That's what Lille Havfrue means, you know. It's Danish for 'Little Mermaid.'" It made sense, in an odd way that no one else could ever understand.

"I'll find her," Jesse said, looking around the bare room. He didn't seem to pay much attention to her findings, but he heard them. He picked up the discarded pair of emerald ballet slippers with a reverence he had never used with artifacts that history museums would do most anything to gain. This would be his imagined favor from the lady he sought. He would find her. Somewhere, someday, somehow, and in some way he couldn't begin to plan, he would find Aquiline.

"Let me help," Candy said, looking at the slippers with understanding. She knew what they would mean. She had admired the dance of the mermaid, and already had bribed a reporter she worked with occasionally to make her a copy of the feed he had recorded from last night. Was it last night? It seemed so much longer ago.

"I can tell you a few useful things." Mako was serious. His solid black eyes looked less out of place on his dark skin. He may not ever fully explain exactly what he had been called on to do as an assistant to Sirene, but this may help undo some of those many years. He was back into a human's time, but he didn't feel that any of those moments would be a waste.

"You aren't leaving me out. I am taking that position as the new host for a back-to-basics cooking show, but I'm only a few seconds away by phone. Derek said something of the sort last year, but this time I have nothing to hold me back. You," she said to Jesse, "have finally grown up. I can leave you alone without having to worry about what you'll do."

"I don't think I could do it without your help." He took the dagger after a second thought, and Candy offered the note. He had three remnants, and not one would give a clue as to where she was. Still, they reminded him of exactly who he had to find. He would find her. He had to.


	9. Years Gone By

"Dr. Dalton, there's a call for the upper coast of California. They need a full squad, and all the gear. From what the caller said, the van will be fine. The truck can sit this one out. It's too bloody dark out there for a species check, but they can point out the rock pool exactly, and there isn't room for anything bigger than a dolphin."

Dr. Jesse Dalton had taken just eight years to gain his doctorate in marine biology. For someone with such lackluster studies in high school years, that was a remarkable achievement in itself. He had not gone to one of the many degree-for-a-fee schools that littered California and the nation. Instead, he had worked harder than ever before to gain his Ph.D. in the major at the University of Southern California. Marine biology was the only study he had a passion for, and the dramatics of Hollywood appalled him now. Eleven years had passed since the fateful birthday party, and ten had been productive.

"All right. I'll take the second shift- call them up." He was the head and creator of one of many organizations created to rescue beached mammals and get them seaworthy again, if needed. He had also put a great white shark back in on one occasion, a decision that made all but a few close friends furious. People were happy enough with mammalian predators, but sharks were another story.

"Got it." Mike Hurst picked up a phone, dialing room numbers from memory. He was one of several interns elated to work with the esteemed doctor. Jesse Dalton had been the first person to give a real estimate of the way a giant squid's tentacles worked, and had done a landmark study in the tails of fish.

By the time Jesse reached the van made especially for the purpose of saving beached animals, his small crew was already gathered. Mike was staying back at the "base," as it was jokingly called. Three residents were coming with them. Fourteen college students of various majors had been quite happy for free dorms, access to help with homework, and meals, all for just helping with the effort.

"Let's roll." He could use such clichéd jargon. His small group was too serious to laugh at his antiquated phrases, for the most part. He wasn't that old, after all. He was twenty-nine, a professor, a researcher, and still unmarried. As the boldest of student boarders told him, he didn't look to bad. She had even asked why he wasn't married. He couldn't remember what flippant answer he had given. The real reason was absurd, especially for an expert of oceanography. Mermaids didn't exist, according to every text he had ever read, and claiming otherwise would derail his entire career.

Candy and Mako leapt into the van before the designated driver could put a key into the ignition. They occasionally stayed in the two-year-old research center named for a certain unmentioned person. After a year of floundering, he had decided to go to college. College had offered just what he needed, a non-judgmental group, for the most part, of peers. After a year of living like a recluse, his social standing had dropped enough that he wasn't as easily recognizable.

Candy Dunes was now the editor-in-chief of the _Ocean's Monthly_. The prominent paper of marine biology and oceanology covered only the most important of events in research, new discovery, and theories and new tips for various designs. The patent of her own personal breathing apparatus, perfected after Jesse made friends in the engineering department after ordering a mechanic dolphin sling and adapted van for his new endeavors, had been on the second page, and all proceeds went directly to the charity house founded by Jesse. He had already sponsored more than twenty students who couldn't afford housing. Once the place could become self-sufficient, it would last beyond him. He liked that idea. The Mermaid Research Center already had some power behind its name, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Mako hadn't done so badly. He was a shark expert with several international institutes. He gave his history as growing up poor on a remote Pacific island, saying he wouldn't give its name to keep privacy intact, and had made a study of sharks in the wild. He took Candy's surname, explaining that he did not have one to call his own. The thesis he wrote on exactly how sharks control sensing the electrical fields of living beings was still unmatched, and he only smiled oddly when asked to name his sources, his methods, or anything related to his unconventional researching methods. He had married a reporter, and knew how to treat a source, especially one that no one would believe.

The roads were slick. A storm still tore through the night, drenching the roads and the sea. Errant waves could carry a full-grown dolphin into a rock pool before retreating faster than any of the mammals. Whales were usually just confused by something, or else felt some unknown need to beach themselves. No one had unraveled that mystery just yet. It was Jesse's next project, to lessen the tragic sight of a carcass larger than several school buses washed up on a beach somewhere.

"Here," one of the newest recruits said, flushing with pleasure that she had been allowed to be the navigator. Sophia held a map of the area with Mike's carefully written directions in the margins. Mike would answer any further calls, forwarding locations to the van. Ricard, the navigator's study partner, also new, was looking at a satellite view of the beach.

"We're clear," he said, looking intently at the dark landscape. "There's a ridge of rock, but someone should run over it first on foot. There are a few rough patches. The pool's pretty isolated, away from houses. No one will scare the dolphin." That was good. Veteran members of the odd team knew too well how hard it was to get a skittish dolphin into a sling.

"I'll run the check," Jesse said, glancing at the view of the terrain on the monitor. "Mako, you and Candy are the most experienced here besides me. The rest of you listen to them. Candy's in charge of the crane, and Mako's the best one here at getting a dolphin in. Everyone get that?"

"Better than you?" the driver teased. It was hard to make fun of this man. Danielle had heard that the son of a movie star once had been one of the most brutally straight-forward snobs on the West Coast from everyone, including Jesse himself, but couldn't imagine it. After he started going to college, he had developed a much better sense of humor, as Mako had said once. As he hadn't had one before, that was easy. Jesse had laughed at that, not even remembering that he once would have made snide comments that all news syndicates would emulate, ruining the reputation of whoever had said something remotely that degrading.

"Better than me," Jesse affirmed. Mako understood dolphins in a way that Jesse never could. A few were hesitant, but always found after a few cautious nudges that this odd man wasn't about to bite with razor-sharp teeth.

"I'm parking," Danielle warned. This was a part of standard protocol for the driver, as passengers usually walked, hunched over, through the empty area in the back of the van, where an injured dolphin could ride with room left over. The braking was fairly smooth, with only a small jerk as traction tires gripped the road. The van wasn't going anywhere.

The team moved quickly the instant the van was secure. Sophia immediately began to assess the best route to an emergency medical care center, if one was needed. Danielle went over the route with her. Candy began to work with the crane that extended from a compartment on top of the van as Sophia finished planning a route, ready to steady the van with custom braces when it was moved into position. Mako stood at the edge of the path, judging if it was wide enough for a van. Jesse walked down it, stomping on a few portions to get a feel for the rock, checking for changes in sound. Some rock had a limestone bed beneath it; limestone was easily dissolved by water. All in his business heard about the fate of Ms. Licht's team fourteen years ago, when her entire van went through the thin crust of rock.

He found the rock pool easily enough. It was just ten feet across, an uneven shape that most closely resembled an oval someone had punched in the side. He checked the approach first, making sure he didn't slip. He had learned through experience that rushing to help was not a good idea. Falling was never pleasant, and no dolphin appreciated a scientist, however renowned, falling on top of him.

About to call Mako, he paused. He would just have a quick look. If it was a shark, Mako was the only choice. Jesse had called Mako out to the beach the time he had found a great white. He wasn't about the coax the predating fish into a sling. Mako had done it easily enough, which never failed to amaze Jesse. He related the incident later to Maddie, who wasn't at all impressed. She had already guessed.

Maddie had a successful show. It had started on a local public network, between news on the latest school board decisions and a speech by the mayor. A producer for a major station had watched it, bored with nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon. He had loved her no-nonsense approach, and the easy recipes that didn't ask for three ducklings still in shells or spices only a French gourmet would stock. Her motto was "I'm here to cook, not to support the business of the fancy I-dare-you-to-pronounce-this spice shop." While the motto was rather long, she still used it.

She was labeled the latest of the divas of home improvement. She never held with that image. Leaving just enough to support her and the new housemate she had met in New York, a man she still was teased about by Jesse, Candy, and Mako because he was a fan of the Yankees baseball team she hated so much, the rest went to charity. She gave the odd dollar to Jesse's commonplace but workable idea, though a much larger portion went to a small abused children's counseling shelter in Northern California. If they guessed why, her three younger friends never brought up painful memories for her.

He looked in the rock pool. There was no overly excited dolphin splashing, tail churning water in a panic to be in an enclosed space, ready to be put back in the ocean without incident. There wasn't even a lethargic dolphin that would need medical care. _At least there isn't a dead dolphin. _He hated the sight of a dead dolphin, the intelligent eyes clouded forever, perpetual smile still frozen in place.

He didn't see any signs of life in the rock pool, besides the usual. There were a few sea stars, eight sea urchins of the particularly sharp type, massive swaths of kelp, clams, a clump of oysters, and a small school of fish. At a pebble he tossed into the water, they scattered into the seaweed, only the small fluttering of seaweed showing their presence. He watched the pebble fall idly, landing neatly beside a pale finger.

He turned to leave before exhibiting a classic double take. _A finger?_ That was not among the usual inhabitants of rock pools. Avoiding the sea urchins, he stepped into waist-deep water, hoping that the abnormally large waves were finished for the night. He still did not like the open ocean. Surfing was out of the option, now. He didn't miss it as much as he would have guessed. After that day twelve years ago just last week, surfing brought too many memories he would rather save to dreams.

Jesse found a spar of driftwood half-buried in the sand. He pulled it out, ignoring the cloud of silt that spread around his feet like a nuclear cloud, though without the deadly effects. He shifted the kelp to the side, not even able to make a guess as to what he would find. He found a pale hand, and then an arm. Well, that was normal enough.

When he found a female torso covered in an armor of scales, he froze for just an instant, though it felt like years. He closed his eyes, remembering the direction that he had to move in. He ducked below water, feeling around on the rough-sanded pool bottom scattered with sharp fragments of seashells. He found an arm, and reached behind a cold back. His other arm found the tail that he expected. Lungs screaming for breath, he stood.

Kelp fell away from her face like a reluctant curtain as he lifted her from the water. Her skin was translucent. He could see the veins beneath, but couldn't tell if they were pulsing. _She's so cold._ Fish were cold blooded. It would only make sense that she would feel cold. She had been in the Pacific, after all. _Cold water, cold fish- 'tis an elementary concept, my dear Jesse. _Now he was just trying to calm himself down.

It was Lille. He could recognize her if he was blind, and all he had to know her was the way water rippled over her body. Well, that wasn't quite right, but it sounded poetic. Her eyes didn't open, and her mouth was slightly open. A trickle of saltwater fell from her mouth, hitting the tidal pool with barely a ripple.

"Lille," he said, hoarsely. Too late, he remembered his folly. "Aquiline." He still wasn't used to that name, as beautiful as it was. "Aquiline?" She still didn't respond.

He pulled her hair away from her neck, trying to find that point where a pulse would be found. For all his medical emergency training and efficiency, he was panicking. He didn't find a point for a pulse, distracted by something else. This had not been covered, either in his human CPR or marine mammal emergency session. She had gills.

_Well, of course she has gills. She has to breathe, after all. _There were three on each side of her neck. Each side had all three perfectly parallel shallow gashes that looked right, somehow. Feathery appendages, like a ripple of translucent silk, extended from each, hanging limply. Finally, the thought that had been circling came to realization. _She needs water to breathe. _

He dipped her underwater without a second thought. Maneuvering with some difficulty, he tried to hold onto her while holding her hair away from her gills. Improvising, he ran a finger along each gill gently, trying to get a reaction from the still organs. He didn't think that it would work, but then the gills moved on their own at once in an abrupt motion that could only be a sputter. After a few more such coughs, they steadied into a regular rhythm.

She was breathing gently, a slight furrow in her forehead showing that it was difficult. He knew that dolphins had to remember to breathe. Was it the same for mermaids? He would have to ask her later, as soon as he had the opportunity to apologize fifty-six thousand times. That probably would not be enough, but Candy said that after that many it would get very boring.

He saw small changes, ones that he knew were not usual. At least, he had not seen them before. Her skin was clearer, but there was a fragile quality to it she never had shown. Her eyes seemed more sunken, dug into a shadowed hollow that was most definitely not usual. Her collarbones stood out clearly- clavicles, as his anatomy teacher would snap, gesturing pointedly to a diagram. That professor had been insistent on proper names in place of colloquialisms.

A careful hand smoothed the offending hair away from her gills again. Her hair was thinner than it had been twelve years ago, and he could barely believe it had been that long ago . As far as he was concerned, it was just yesterday that she had left. She had not left him, he knew. She had left because he had yet to figure out what he could have had. He had wasted eleven years, and that was enough. He moved a gentle finger to her neck, and found a steady pulse that didn't seem strong enough for her.

"Mako!" he yelled, seeing that she was not about to wake up. "Get me a few blankets. Don't let anyone but Candy down here." Not one of his students would argue with Mako. When he wished, Mako could be intimidating enough that the marine-minded students remembered the shark of the same name. Candy could keep them in line, but he needed her to help him. She knew CPR far better than he did, and always read about odd topics for the magazine. Resuscitating fish just may have been one of them.

Candy carried two of the water-proof blankets when she made her way down the path, moving as quickly as possible without falling from the narrow ledge. What on earth did Jesse want blankets for? They were here to find a dolphin. Maybe he had fallen in, or tore his pants on something. That would explain why he didn't want anyone else there. With these rational reasons in mind, she almost dropped her burden when she the true reason.

"Lille?" Candy never had been one for hallucinations. She didn't notice that she had used the wrong name, and Jesse didn't bother to correct her.

"She's freezing. I think she might just be cold-blooded, but that might be hard to explain. These, too," he said, moving a shroud of hair aside to reveal gills. "She's breathing air, now. I do trust the students, but I think some things are better left secret.

Candy agreed. Between the two of them, she was wrapped in blankets carefully. The end near her tail was neatly tucked in, and the blankets also firmly covered from her shoulders to the tip of her tail. Jesse would carry Aquiline, Candy would field explanations as to why she had been called down. She might not hallucinate, but she could lie well any time at all. Her mother had given her that wonderful talent.

"She's an old friend of Jesse's. We haven't seen her for years. She washed up on the beach. She isn't wearing a stitch of clothing but a torn-up swimming suit, and she's freezing. No, the pre-med students will not be examining her, Sophia and Ricard. She just has a bit of shock- trust me, no hypothermia. Don't probe at her neck, Sophia- she's having a little trouble with her windpipe. No, Danielle, you will not do blood work while in the van, or when we're back at the center. Those kits are made for dolphins. Ricard? Did you listen to me? Leave the poor woman's neck alone." Candy took on the role of exasperated teacher, finally getting them to leave Aquiline alone. Jesse was no help at all, only watching Aquiline for any signs of life, and Mako only laughed at her attempts to control the many students, every last one of them eager to help.

Aquiline gradually grew warmer. Her skin lost the freezing feel, but became no more opaque. As blood flowed more easily in the warmer veins, the skin only looked more transparent than ever. Her hand was limp as Jesse held it, remembering the events of years ago. "Come on, Aquiline," he said, speaking quietly to her. If nearby students in the press of the van heard, they gave no sign. "I lost you eleven years ago last week. I won't lose you a second time." He paused for only a second, whispering to her. It didn't matter that she was unconscious. "I love you, Aquiline."


	10. A Dagger and a Fairy Tale

The rest of the ride back to the MRC was subdued. The three students didn't know how to react to their usually jovial leader. He always made jokes after their "secret agent missions," as he dubbed them. He would nominate someone to be 007, usually himself, and then inflict a melodramatically horrible British accent on them as he spoke of what they had done right, what needed improvement, and took input on treatment plans for a dolphin. He could be a convincing actor, but that didn't have the same comedic effect as his wonderfully horrible acts.

Danielle focused on her driving. Ricard also watched the road, in an attempt to not stare at the new passenger. In the few months he had been in the MRC dorms, he never had heard of one of the volunteer squads rescuing a person. Sophia quickly grew bored, as no one needed a map. Mako and Candy were discussing something using many allusions no one else but Jesse understood, and he wasn't paying attention.

"She's the reason you never married," Sophia announced after a few minutes, more to break the quiet than anything else. She had asked him, once, and he had only said that he wasn't quite ready to settle down. That was a silly thought, as he had a very nice suite of rooms on the top floor of the MRC, and already was settled down. He hadn't even had a date that they knew of, in the history of the program. Even his college roommates had noticed his odd lack of a date, through no shortage of offers.

"Sophia," Candy warned, beating Mako in admonishing her. "Leave him be. Hearing's the last thing that an unconscious person loses, you know, and she could be listening to all of us. Knowing Lille, she probably is."

"Aquiline would do that," Mako agreed. "She'd laugh at us all later, too. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she was memorizing every word."

"Is it Aquiline, or Lille?" Ricard asked.

"Aquiline. Lille's an old nickname," Jesse answered, much more curt than usual. He couldn't think of anything to do to help Aquiline. She was breathing, her heart was fine, she was warming up, but she was still unconscious with no sign of waking up soon. He was a doctor of marine biology, not a medical doctor.

"That's it," Danielle said. "She needs get some rest in a stable bed, and this van won't do a thing for her. I'm making this baby go as fast as fast can be. If we get a ticket, they'll have to catch to me first." Danielle never before had found the supervisor of the expeditions so willing to blatantly disregard traffic safety laws. Getting home sounded like a very good idea . He didn't even give a cursory protest.

Before the van even had pulled up to a squealing stop after a few donuts that normally would never be allowed, Mike raced out to meet them with a gurney. Ricard had called him, but hadn't been able to give any real details. Mike glanced at the patient, curious. She was nothing like their usual dolphins, or the occasional whale. She looked decidedly unhealthy. Were veins supposed to look green? He had never heard of such a thing, but he was sure that Mako or Jesse would know.

"Your room's set up, Jesse," he said as the professor put Aquiline on a stretcher with the careful attention usually reserved for a newborn. "From what Ricard said, you'd want to be close by. There's a bed ready." Mike was studying to be a veterinarian, one of the many pre-med students in the MRC. Caring for animals was similar to caring for people. Animals just relied solely on tone and body language, things that humans rarely cared for.

"I'll be up in a minute," Candy called after him. She had never seen Jesse so nervous. No matter what he decided, he could not keep her away. She and Mako had a right to wait for Aquiline, even if he would be the one in charge. He had found her, after all. "Mike, Sophia, Ricard, and Danielle, you all need to tell the others that absolutely no one is to go to the top floor, call him, or make a disturbance unless the building is on fire, a nuclear missile is heading this way, or a really pretty woman in a dark purple dress shows up. If she does, slam the door and get Mako." The last instruction was odd, but Candy felt it was necessary to cover all bases.

Candy was true to her word. She and Mako claimed a couch on the opposite side of the room, and took turns cat-napping. They had just flown from London, where they had attended a conference on marine biology and technology applications, and were very much suffering from jet lag. Neither said a word to Jesse. He wasn't listening.

Aquiline hadn't moved. She still was breathing unevenly, gulping air in some unconscious attempt to keep her lungs working. Her pulse was a little stronger. Jesse was relieved that her skin was almost the same temperature as his. He had been talking to her the entire night, quiet and insistent. None of the words carried across the room. Many of the words he found himself using were recalled from the time she had saved his life.

At some anonymous time in the midst of the night, Aquiline's hand clenched. Jesse, who had been holding onto that hand as if it was the last lifeline he had, slept. Her weak motion was not enough to wake him.

"Lille." He was speaking in his sleep, but didn't stir. His voice was hoarse from the long night of talking to her. Had he been awake, he would have ignored all clinical knowledge of muscle spasms. He still remembered holding his grandfather's hand in the hospital, when the old man was bedridden and dying from emphysema. The doctors had sworn there was no brain activity. Jesse had felt the man squeeze his hand. No one believed him, thinking he only wanted attention, but it was a true story. He liked to think that he hadn't made up that memory. He hadn't been much of a liar when he was nine.

Her eyes opened slowly, so gradually that no motion could really be seen. She didn't want to wake up. This was the best dream she could remember having for years. She was warm, and not freezing from the closeness of the sea-witch. She was lying on a warm bed, not resting in some small crevice of rock. She was in a beautiful room. She heard a familiar voice. _Lille. _Sirene never would say that name, but instead used any other derisive nick-name that she could think of.

_I don't want to wake up. _The one day she had a good dream, she could not sleep any longer. He had said something, and had the dry sound in his voice that meant he had been talking for a long while. She moved her hand again, this time paying attention to the motion. She was not touching anything wet, hard, sharp, or slimy. It was something warm, shaped very much like her own hand. That couldn't be right. Why wasn't she in the ocean? This did not make sense.

She ignored a sleeping Jesse, trying to fit the pieces back together. Sirene had been horrible, as usual. Aquiline knew that she had beaten the old record of not killing herself by a few years. That didn't matter. All that mattered was that she could barely let herself breathe. Each breath just meant that she would live to serve a sea-witch, her bargain for a chance that would not have worked. If only she could have taken her year now, when he was kinder. But that was impossible. From what she could guess about him, losing her had made him mature. Good. Then there was still hope for him.

She had thrown herself into the freak wave, one that would carry her straight at the rocks. There was no record of how the various mermaids died, but being dashed against the rather impressive rocks of the coastline sounded deadly and not likely to leave any clues to betray that she was a mermaid. Instead, they would find a woman's mangled body, and the fish part would rot away within minutes, leaving odd traces no scientist would dare explain. But fate had stopped her.

She had been carried into a small tidal pool. The chances of the event were astronomically low. That had been good enough, she had decided. She would just stop breathing. Giving up had been easier than she had guessed. After eleven years of painful hope, she could finally rest. Then, before she fully could lose herself to sleep, she had felt someone take her out of the water. Her gills fought to breathe, and a gentle touch coaxed them into working. That had been when she lost the battle to stay at least partly awake.

She was staring into space, with a vacant look that would have scared him. He would even have admitted it. That blank look would scare him more than the squid ever had. When he was attacked, he hadn't known what had hit him, and knew that it was very likely that he would die. He couldn't lose her. It wouldn't be right, not after all the years.

Her eyes were not a brilliant blue. They were not even the pale blue-grey they had been once while she was in his house. They were a shadowed shade that that could not be named, and looked like the eyes of a dead person. The pupils were somewhat clouded, and blended into the irises. That blending had looked normal, in Mako's bright sharks' eyes. On her, the shading looked dangerous and threatening.

"Jesse," she said finally, his name coming out soft and whispered, like a hesitant touch. What did this mean? Was she dead? That couldn't be right. From all she had ever known, mermaids had no souls. If they died, they dissolved into sea foam. The luckiest were given the chance to go through a Purgatory of sorts, as direct consultation with St. Peter was not allowed for the sin of being born a mermaid. To gain a soul, a mermaid had to be loved. In the sea without mermen, that was nearly impossible.

He didn't wake, but only kept sleeping, bent uncomfortably on a chair beside the bed. He had fallen asleep hours ago, his body trying to make up for the strain of the recent events. He looked worried even in his sleep, by the small frown.

"I have to go." She spoke to a sleeping person. The cold, short words were different from her gentle first word. Sirene would come for her. She hadn't disturbed him. That was good. It would leave only fewer explanations. She was not about to say why she had ended up in that tidal pool. That was something he didn't need to know. She would just disappear, and leave behind the thought that it had all been a dream.

She moved her tail deftly from beneath damp covers. The instant it hit the ground, the process began for the second time. Her tail split in two, leaving trickles of blood on his clean floor. She winced as legs formed from beneath coatings of scales, but managed not to cry out. That would wake Jesse. Glancing at a couch, she noticed that Candy and Mako were also there, asleep from the monotony of the night. That was just her luck, but at least they looked as tired as Jesse did. Something about the changing of her legs reminded her of an old saying, but she didn't remember if he had said anything to her.

Aquiline walked around the room, her dead-fish eyes taking in everything without trouble. She saw a fairly simple room. The bookshelves held books with worn spines, one of which that looked suspiciously like a certain book of tales from Hans Christian Anderson. The desk was fairly cluttered with documents, but seemed to be somewhat organized. She glanced at a few titles, _Icthial Tails _and _Dolphin Psychology_, before turning away. One paper had no title, but was a sketch of a mermaid with a fan tail that was very close to exact. That simple drawing did not need a title.

Her ballet slippers were lying on a desk. They weren't dusty, as the pair was carefully cleaned weekly. The dagger was beside them, gleaming maliciously in reminder of its intent. There was another option, the third door that always exists. Leave the best thing that ever happened to you, put all here in danger from Sirene, or do the deed she could not do so many years ago.

She picked up the dagger. It fit perfectly into her grasp, and she twirled it easily. She bet that she could not perform the feat with any other knife. So, this was her choice. She knew that it was the only way. The knife would set her free, even if it did leave some sadness behind. She hoped that people would mourn a little, but not waste their lives. After all, it wasn't like death was that much of a tragedy. After so many years, she had lost the hesitancy against the act she now considered.

She read the note a final time, looking at the deep creases. Someone had read this often, or carried it around. It had a few traces of salt too small to come from immersion in seawater. Those eight lines had ruined her life, and the lives of so many of her kin. Mermaids had no real choice. Mermen were a lost generation, until the power of the witch was broken. Aquiline truly was the last of the young mermaids, in all senses of the term, though the older crones still waited for the day that their husbands would return, ignoring reason and time. A mermaid's fidelity is something that will not be compromised, no matter what. Adultery is unheard of, as no mermaid would even consider such an act. Mermaid law is brutal, but rarely used. All mermaids have its principles engraved into them, so the penalties have never had a recorded use.

_A year on land to gain his love_

_A year given legs, but no voice_

_No words to give minds a desired shove_

_And then, after year passes, a choice._

_Take the dagger in a hand_

_And then choose if you shall kill_

_Kill him and leave, debt free, from land_

_If he lives without love, an eternity of witch's will._

There was no other way. She left the note where it rested, not marring it with prints of fingers. She touched the satin ribbon of the shoes she had once danced in, but she would not need them. The instant the dagger's need was satiated, she would no longer be troubled by the need for dancing shoes. The knife knew her purpose, and called to her, an almost audible whisper of what she had to do.

Mako turned in his sleep. Aquiline froze, not moving as much as a single muscle. Her heart paused for a moment, and her diaphragm was stationary. He didn't wake, and Candy remained still. She looked at the two of them for a moment before moving again, as gracefully as she could. They had something she envied, the quiet kind of love that had nothing to do with spells and impossible dreams and old legends that never come true.

She should leave some signal, to explain the why of her actions. They would not believe her presence to be a dream, when there were dampened sheets, many witnesses, and a missing dagger. The blood-outlined footprints across the floor of the room were also a dead giveaway. She owed them this much, at least. She expected no real understanding. They had not lived in her tail for the last decade-and-one years. All she could hope was that they could attempt to fathom why she had to do this.

She took out the volume of fairy tales. There still was a bookmark, just in front of the tale marked _The Little Mermaid._ The spine held a picture of the statue that still had its place of honor in the bay outside Copenhagen. She glanced at the illustrations of the story, blushing to see what the artist had shown. Mermaids nursed young differently, so the entire torso was covered in strong scales to protect vital organs.

She recognized the dancer in one picture. That was her many-greats aunt, the first to fall under the curse of the sea-witch. Her sisters had lost their hair to provide the choice of the dagger, but had gained something else. There had been a prophecy, that one of the mermaids would find a way to break the curse upon generations and restore the lost mermen. She was the last mermaid, as only mercrones were left to recall the prophecy of a mermaid who would beat the spell of the witch, and dream of the day husbands and sons would return to them, and a new generation could be born. Even the oldest of mermaids could give birth to a child, so hope lasted a long time.

The prophecy from older times still held true. It described how the last of the Seawitch's curse would be removed. One mermaid would be lost to the sea, but the mermen would return. That was all that mattered. Merfolk followed philosophy similar to that of the Asians, where the good of the society triumphed over the good of the individual. She could recite the prophecy- all mermaids could.

_Muted tongues at last shall sing_

_A final chorus from 'neath the wave_

_Sea loses a queen to gain a king_

_And triumphs when Seawitch is in her grave._

There was no more time for dawdling. She turned to the page where the choice of the dagger was explained. She was sure that Jesse would understand. He probably would not approve of the option, but he would know that it was necessary. He had to. The dagger seemed to have its own semblance of life, whirling around her fingers and plotting where it would strike. There was no other way. The dagger would be used, for the first and last time, to stop the curse. It was for all the generations, past and future.

She touched her right foot, bleeding from her walk around the room. A drop of blood glistened on her finger, red and dark. She touched the tip of her finger to the picture, adding the small detail to the dagger the pictured mermaid held. The crimson spread like some kind of dye, running down the blade and making a swirl in the picture. She would finish this story, in the only way she knew how, and this dagger would end it once and for all. No more mermaids would suffer this choice that she had to make. Not even that thought made her decision easier. She raised the dagger, watching the red LCD lights of the alarm clock lent it a blood-like glow. It was time.


	11. If You Love Her

The dagger screamed for blood, and protested its wielder's decision. Aquiline left the room. She had made her choice, and would not turn back now. Maybe the three humans wouldn't understand. Maybe they would doubt the reasons she had to leave. They didn't know why she had ended up on land again in the first place. Fate had done it, by her best guess. She needed the dagger to end this nightmare properly. This was the only way.

She knew nothing of elevators, and ignored the retracting metal doors with the lit arrows beside them. The building was multiple stories, a complete research center. Instead, she found a staircase. This was something that she could understand, and use without feeling like there was some vital piece of information that she was missing.

The five flights of stairs alone were enough to make her feet ache. She left a clear trail of blood, and belatedly thought of taking the slippers, if only to leave them on the beach. He would sleep, hopefully, because any idiot could follow this trail. He had proved that he wasn't a complete idiot. He had done several dumb things, but no one could miss such an obvious path. She would only have to move quickly.

The first few halls were empty. Small rooms used for different types of science were closed, with only dimmed floodlights illuminating them. A few larger rooms were in the next hallways, half of them tended by a sleepy-eyed student watching their latest project. Aquiline slipped by them easily. She even passed without incident a pair of students involved in an exuberant session of kissing. She knew there would be a problem when she came to a student sitting in a desk in the open area, wide awake from coffee and glancing at the halls occasionally, looking for someone to talk to.

Mike Hurst was bored. All had to pull the night shift occasionally, but that didn't make it exciting. He had already been through a full pot of coffee, and had done his assignments. He even had checked them over, something he rarely had time to do. There were no other calls, and the storm had been over for hours. The sun wouldn't rise for at least another few hours, and his turn at midnight watchman, as the other night owls called it, was over at six o'clock. He checked his watch. It was 3:58 A.M.

She decided to just be done with it. She walked across the open area, unconcerned that she was still leaving a bleeding trail. She definitely should have opted for the shoes, but she wasn't about to go back up all those stairs, and past those rooms again, to go find them. She had been lucky the first time in the room, that no one had been jarred out of sleeping. They all deserved a nice rest, as what they would know in the morning may not be pleasant.

"You're looking better," Mike remarked. It was no lie. She had a more normal tinge to her skin. She still had a grey cast, but her skin was more translucent than transparent. Her eyes were still odd and a cloudy shade, but Mike had not seen them before. He was too polite to remark about them. Mako had strange eyes- perhaps hers were also natural.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, forgetting for an instant that speaking was allowed. The pause she had created quickly died away. "I just need to stretch my legs a bit. Doctor's orders, as I can't have any atrophy." The explanation flew easily from her tongue, and she was proud to have remembered the clinical term.

"What's wrong with your feet?" He was in school to be a veterinarian, and couldn't possibly miss such an obvious symptom. "You're bleeding pretty heavily."

"I ran into a coral reef. The storm came out of nowhere, and I couldn't get back in, so I headed for the shallower bay." It was a plausible reason. She had always had a decent imagination, but never had realized how easy lying was. It was like telling a story, but not letting anyone know your intentions.

"That's rough," he remarked, not knowing she would take him literally and puzzle over the statement. "Are you sure you want to go out in that? It's pretty cold out there." He looked doubtfully at her strapless gown, one that looked expensive and custom-made. He guessed that Jesse had been keeping the dress for her, as it wasn't attire to wear for a swim in the ocean.

"I'll be fine. If it's too cold, I can always just come in and grab a coat." She slipped out the door without any further words, not listening to any reply. Walking to the beach with a businesslike stride, she forgot that he had seen the dagger that she was carrying. The strange dress could have been the only clothes to fit her. The bleeding feet could have been a symptom. The fact that she was walking in the middle of the night was excusable. With all three together, along with her odd appearance, there was only one thing to do.

Mike dialed the number for Jesse's room, crossing his fingers. This could get him in quite a bit of trouble, if Jesse was trying to sleep. After all, none of Candy's three conditions had been met. The building wasn't on fire, no one was in imminent danger of nuclear warfare, and the odd purple-dressed woman was nowhere in sight. He still felt that Aquiline's appearance qualified as something worthy of notification. She had looked very close to death earlier, and it was rare to recover so quickly.

The ringing of the phone woke Jesse. He sat up suddenly, and memory came rushing back. He had found Aquiline, and that was all that mattered. He glanced at the bed. She was gone. Aquiline was gone. He stood quickly, forgetting the phone for a second as he looked around. The tome of fairy tales was open, and there was still-drying blood on the picture. The dagger was gone. The phone was ringing.

"Jesse here," he said tersely into a hastily grabbed receiver, still trying to imagine where Aquiline could have gone.

"Look, doc, I know you said not to bother you-" Mike began.

"What is it?" Jesse was in no mood for polite exchanges.

"It's your girlfriend. She just went out onto the beach, wearing a really fancy dress, bleeding like mad from the feet, and carrying a really fancy knife. She said that she was just stretching her legs." He gave the small report as quickly as humanly possible. Jesse's tone was worrying him. Doc, as the students often called the founder of MRC, was usually very easy-going. The last time he had been this upset- Mike couldn't even remember a time. This couldn't be good.

"Don't follow her. I'll be right down." Jesse slammed down the phone out of pure haste, leaving it on the nightstand. He paused for only a second, as both Candy and Mako were staring at him, waiting for an explanation. "Lille. Beach. Knife. I'm going." He ran from the room, still dressed in an outfit damp with saltwater. He had a clear trail to follow, one that would be very fun to clean up later.

He ignored the elevator. Aquiline had taken the stairs. He hurtled down to the first floor, a veritable juggernaut. He doubted that he would have been able to avoid anyone going up. He raced down the halls, ignoring curious looks from students. Mike tried to ask a question, but Jesse ignored him. He had a mermaid to find, before she did something that they both would regret. Well, she would be dead, but that didn't mean that she couldn't regret it.

The trail outside was about as clear as mud. He should have brought a flashlight. Her prints blended into the dark red sand, and he doubted that even the light of noon would help him. The beaches in this part of California were darker. Basing his actions on pure instinct, he headed for the shore. If she was going to some other place, he wouldn't know what she was doing anyway. If his guess was correct, she would be near the water, where the tide would be in just an hour.

The waning moon gave just enough light for him to make his cautious way over rough ground. The terrain was rough even through tennis shoes. He doubted that he imagined the blood on the rockier outcrops. This area was far rougher than smooth floors on bare feet that were not made for the ground. The stars peered from behind clouds, occasionally giving him enough light too see tracks. He usually took the cleared road to the beach, but he knew she had used the rougher path.

He finally was on the cliff overlooking the beach. There was a narrow path that hugged the edge, steep and rocky. Fragments of seashells made the path even rougher on the feet. He did not need the additional light from the stars to see blood gleaming, its own path down the bluff. He followed, staying as close to the solid edge of the path as possible as he tried to catch up with Aquiline. He couldn't see her on the beach yet, and was not foolish enough to glance over the side of the path in an attempt to see her.

The last part over the narrow path was nearly drenched in blood. The sand was damp with it, and the smell of drying blood was appalling. _How much blood is she losing? _That couldn't be healthy. He worked with enough med students and wounded animals to know that losing blood was not at all good. She was in no real condition for such a walk.

Finally, he reached the beach. He was out of breath, and he was no slouch at exercising. He had taken up cross-country running, where the average runner could cover four miles of rough ground without breaking a sweat. This late-night journey over territory he knew fairly well was exhausting. He felt half-trapped in a dream, and a real sense of déjà vu. He had been in this type of scene before, the first time she had to leave. This time, the abandonment seemed to be her choice. _Did she change her mind?_

He ran across the beach. There was a figure silhouetted against the moonlit water, and he saw the flash of dim light against a blade that shone too bright. This was the last stretch of the race to beat her before she did whatever she intended. He doubted it was anything good. The blood had been more than enough to make him doubt she had intentions that were positive to either of them. He felt his breath return, and knew he would sleep for quite a time after this mess was over.

"Aquiline!" The word was a prayer, a hope, and a dream all at once. It was still late. He didn't know what time it was, as he always took off his watch before going on a rescue mission. The water-proofing wasn't an issue. Thrashing dolphins were a problem, and no watch could withstand being bashed against rocks at a high velocity.

She whirled. "Stay away, Jesse. I'm serious." The knife was held ready in her hand, and from her wild eyes that still looked dead, she was serious. The dim light made her all in shades of grey, from pale skin with darker veins to dull grey eyes to wild hair to a dress that appeared solid black. The only color around her was a blue-white light reflecting from the blade.

"Lille, there's another way. You don't have to do this."

"What do you know?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes. "You've had it pretty easy, sitting around and saving the wittle dolphwins with all those college students running around and admiring you and making you some role model that belonged on a pedestal. They did put you on a pedestal, in fact, _doc."_ The fond nickname became something worthy of derision. She didn't give any chances for him to defend himself. "Did you know that one of the girls was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs? I'm sure she'd say yes in less than one of her nervous heartbeats. Everyone knows that you said yes to Sirene right away."

There really was nothing to say to that. She wouldn't believe him. He had to try, though. After so many years, he wasn't about to just let her go that easily. That last comment was a bit too harsh, in his opinion. He was not that Jesse any longer.

"I've changed, Aquiline. Ask any of my roommates. I haven't had a girlfriend in eleven years. That girl who was waiting has already been told no on at least nine separate occasions. And I'm a different person now." He tried not to be defensive, but wasn't completely effective.

"So am I." She sounded almost sad for a minute. "That's why you have to go." She was angry again. Anger was safe. Anger would not make her feel like she was ripping herself to pieces inside. "I have something to do, and you're only in my way."

"What are you going to accomplish by that, Lille? You're already freed from Sirene's binding." He wouldn't let her ruin everything he had hoped for to keep herself from remembering. "You can make a choice."

"No, I'm not. I'm trapped in it just as surely as you're weaving a trap to keep me here. I have made a choice, Jesse. You could try to be a bit more appreciative. Don't you see? It isn't just me. Once I'm done, the mermen will be back. The merfolk will be there again. It's the best thing for everyone. Now, will you please leave?" He hadn't moved any closer than ten feet away, where she first threatened with the dagger. Her frenzied explanation of the predicament of the merfolk was not nearly long enough to make anything clear, but she had no patience for details.

"I love you, Aquiline." It had been far easier to say than he would have guessed. He didn't hesitate. It was the easiest thing he had ever had to say, and this time it truly counted. Saying those words to an unconscious person simply didn't count.

The angry tirade she had prepared fell to shreds. "You do?" she asked shyly. That was not at all what she wanted to say. _Say it, you pansy. "I don't love you anymore". Just say it, and he'll leave, and everything will turn out fine. _She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She couldn't say it. She just could not say it. For all her biting words, and decisive plans, she couldn't lie about that, of all things.

"Yes. Ever since the morning you left, I've known that. That's half of the reason I created a team to join the Coast's mammal retrieval squad program, you know. I wanted to be an expert, in case you ever needed help." He noticed that the dagger had dipped lower, and took a few quick steps forward.

"Don't make this harder. I have to save my people." They were her people. The mermaid of Anderson's tale had been a princess. Lille was the last of the royal line, save the old queen who only waited for her husband to return. The crones needed no ruler to make decisions. They were of one mind in what should be done.

"Don't you understand? You've won. You had a year on land. I fell in love with you. Even if the year had passed, I have told you that I love you. The requirements are met. Lille, just listen to me," he pleaded, moving closer to her cautiously. When she first met him, he would not even grow close to such a tone. Now, he would do anything to keep her. He could not lose her again.

"No," she said uncertainly. "That can't be right." The dagger pointed straight at him again, stopping his slow forward progress. "Stay away. There is no alternative. All mermaids who serve the sea-witch kill themselves. I will be the first to use the pride-gift of the sisters to spill blood, and that will free the captive merfolk from their bonds." The dagger glinted viciously. "There will be blood, but I will feel no pain."

"Aquiline, just drop the dagger. It's doing something to you. Just leave it on the sand. I won't touch it. No one will." He moved no closer. He was just a little more than three feet away, and she could almost touch him with the outstretched blade.

"No. The dagger lets me see what is real, and what is true." Her voice was distorted, as if someone else was speaking through her. "I will see that all mermaids have a soul, a hope, a dream, a wish, a chance!" The distortion grew, to such proportions that her voice was no longer recognizable.

"Lille. Didn't you listen to the spell? It never said that you had to find some declaration of love within the year. All you need to do is put the knife away." Something was wrong. He didn't even need to look at her wild eyes, manic in their intensity, to be able to tell that much. This was not something he could stop.

"I am the last of the mermaidens. I am the fate that will bring the rest home. I will perpetuate the race." That was not the manner of speech she usually used. "I am the one to save my people. No man can stop me!"

"What about love?"


	12. Let Her Go

It was a simple question, really, but it stopped her for a minute. _What about love? _"Love. Love's a folly, a foolish dream, something that all the fairy tales tell about. It never really happens. People fool themselves into it. 'Surely, this must be love. I feel different than I did yesterday.' I have news for you. You've changed. You spent eleven years becoming a new person, a better person, someone everyone admires. What if I changed, into something worse? What if Sirene influenced me, for good? What if I'm a bad person? I've done things that I never would have had nightmares of before. I did them. Me. Lille. The perfect little nice girl that you said you loved. I'm not naïve and innocent and willing to risk everything for something that I assumed to be love. What if it isn't enough?"

"This is love. You forgot, Lille. I've had that silly feeling of girlfriends before. I've never found anyone else that I didn't grow tired of, want to exchange for some newer model. Look at Mako. He isn't a bad person, but has some sort of past that he alludes to when he can't help it." That was the longest speech he had ever heard from her. From the look on her face, it wouldn't be the last.

"Are you sure?" The dagger glinted. Morning was coming soon, another sunrise. The palest streaks of dawn crossed the sky, transparent streamers spread by celestial dancers shedding night's cloaks.

"I hope so, because this is the strongest I've ever felt. I can't lose you again, Aquiline. I just can't. Just put the dagger down for a moment. I swear on anything you wish, if necessary, that I will not touch it." He didn't move any closer. It was her move, now.

Giving him a suspicious look, one that he never would have imagined on Aquiline, the dagger fell to rest in the sand. The hilt protruded above the beach, winking in the morning light. She watched him for any sudden moves. She couldn't trust anyone with that knife. It was the only way to end the pride-gift's curse.

"Is everything supposed to automatically be fine, just because the fairy tale conditions are satisfied? Life isn't like that, Jesse." Her sharp tone was not influenced only by the knife, shown by only a small lessening in the vehemence of her tone. "Life is a lot harder than happily ever after."

"Stories always do stop there, Aquiline, but life doesn't. I'm not expecting everything to be smooth-stemmed roses, but it can't all be thorns, either. You're ignoring all the roses in the briars. We can work it out. Together. That's a very important part of the ever after that no one seems to know about."

"I can't." She had almost looked persuaded by his level tone. "The merfolk still need me. Until the curse is broken, and daughter of fin and tail is loved by man of flesh and land, there will be no mermen. Merfolk can still live in the oceans, once I break the spell once and for all."

"It's already broken."

"What?"

"Can't you see, Lille? You've been losing that grey look to you, bit by bit. Your eyes aren't quite as clouded. You're breathing like a landlubber, not a dolphin remembering to take in air. Your voice sounds a lot more normal than before. You changed your tail to legs, without anyone's input but your own." Why couldn't she figure it out? She was free of the spell that had taken so many from her family. "You needed someone to love you, after just a year on land. I did, I do, and I will. You are free of any hold she had on you."

"I am?" She thought for a moment, taking in some other level of thought that no one else would wish to experience. The other presence was gone. Sirene was completely out of her mind. There were traces of the sea-witch, but there was no longer a conscious stream of vile and disgusting thoughts.

"I am," she repeated, a firm statement. "She can't control me now." She grabbed the knife from the sand. Its influence was nothing, and she couldn't even hear the softest of malicious whispers from the weapon. She really was free. She dropped the knife carelessly, watching it fall haphazardly to lie on the sand like a dying monster.

"You are." He knew that she had to admit it before it had truly counted. Shock was a powerful factor. However impatient he was to make sure she was completely fine, he had to wait for the facts to settle in.

"You did it! The curse is gone. It's never coming back!" Aquiline beamed, and for a moment looked nothing at all like an animated corpse.

"_We_ did it, Aquiline. Come on. Your feet are a positive mess, you're still too sick to be wandering around in the dead of night, and Candy and Mako are not happy that I came to talk to you alone." Dawn was more pronounced, and he could see the road. That was a much easier route, unlike the cliff path she had chosen.

"I can't come with you." The smile disappeared abruptly, a switch shut off in her mind with a definite click.

"Why?"

"I don't know who I am anymore, Jesse."

"You are Aquiline. You are the most brilliant dancer I've ever seen. You are so saintedly noble that, if you weren't you, I could hate you for it. You make me want to be a better person. You're the only girl I've ever loved. You are the only mermaid I've ever met, but I have no doubt that you're the most beautiful. You're prettier than Sirene ever was, you know." _And I was a fool to not realize that fact._

"I have a name. I have a skill shared by all mermaids that comes from pain. All grace and lightness comes from that pain, and teaches easier ways to walk and twirl and dance. Noble? I'm just doing what any mermaid would do. I'm not who I was twelve years ago, when I fell in love with you, or even eleven, when you decided that you loved me." Fogged eyes looked even more distant as she spoke, staring at something beyond him. "I've changed, Jesse, and not for the better. I'm suspicious, I'm cynical, I'm bitter, and nothing at all like someone you called Lille."

"What do you mean? I still love you."

"I need to find myself. I need more than being Aquiline, loved by someone. I have to be more than the famous Dr. Jesse Dalton's fiancée, then wife. I need to find where I fit in, how I fit in, why I fit in, and who I fit in with." That was what she wanted most. She needed a place where she could finally be Aquiline, and finally find exactly who Aquiline was. She was a princess, and loved by a human, and a good dancer, but that wasn't what made her into a good or bad person.

"I don't understand." Was she trying to say something else?

"Yes, you do. You were going to star in a movie, being the byline under "Daredevil" Derek Dalton. You never really wanted to be an actor. You wanted an identity, quick and easy and guaranteed to sit well with the ladies." Her words were harsh, but had been true.

"Then, you decided to be a good person. You went to college. You became a professional marine biologist, and found a world of your own. People respect you for that. I need a real life, not the half-existence of the always-clichéd happily-ever-after. What's next? You saved me from the dreaded curse. Now what happens? No one has ever reached this point in the fairy tale. All the kin of mine died before anything close to this, or killed themselves after too much time with Sirene." No mermaid was made for that existence.

"I need to find something of my own, Jesse," she said, slightly breathless from the speech. "I need to go my own way, to find what makes me different and myself as opposed to someone else."

"Must you?" He had few things to say. Aquiline was making up for a year of silence with enough speeches to cover almost two.

"I have colors to earn, a reputation to make, and a dragon to slay." She saw the smooth road in for the first time in the lightening dawn, seeing the easy way for the first time. She could just walk down that smooth road, back to the comfortable research center. She could forget a few things still possible for her to do. She could, for once, not have to worry about anything but being happy.

"Can't you at least say hello?" _She doesn't have to leave now, of all times. She's been gone for eleven years. A few minutes before setting off on her glorious quest will make no difference._

"No. I need to do this. If I do go back, I won't leave until tomorrow. Then, there'll be tests to take, results to wait for, errands to run, lives to lead, and a million other small things. I'll never do this. I'll always be someone's shadow, and never stand as an entity in the darkness. I'll need a light to exist."

"I've waited for you," he argued, tired of being patient and accepting. "I've wasted eleven years of my life hoping that you could come back to me."

"Look at me. I'm half dead, as you have said in so few words. I have to fix wrongs. Do you know what I've done? No, you wouldn't. Mako would understand, but he had time for atonement long ago. Sirene fumed about that, the two years he spent in the Pacific. He fixed problems, and saved more lives than I can count. Candy went with him, but you can't follow me. He stayed above the water. You just don't have the gills, and no technological substitute will do."

"Why are you so bent on leaving me?" he asked, before he could rethink the question. He might not want to hear the answer.

"I'm not. I want to stay here, more than you know. But I have to go. Will you let me?"

"I don't see how I can stop you," he snapped. She wouldn't listen to a thing he said. He already knew that reason, threats, and bribes would be no good. She looked to be at least as stubborn as him.

"Do you love me, Jesse?" she asked. Her voice was almost sweet again, and the tone was a replica a girl of sweet seventeen asking the question for the first time.

"Yes." No matter how infuriating her insistence on leaving was, he could give no other answer. He did love her, and knew that nothing would stop that. Love is not an emotion the heart forgets, especially when the brain remains paralyzed about the impossibility of the match. He never had believed in ghosts or mermaids or mythical beings, until he watched Lille grow a tail before his eyes.

"Let me go."

"I've never been able to keep you." She had escaped him last time, sprouting scales from her dress even as he watched in shock.

Aquiline smiled, and the expression somehow full of equal regret and hope. "I'll be back. I saved you once, now you've saved me. The third time will give us our shot at happily ever after." She would be back for him, come Sirene or high water. If she didn't return, she was six feet below the silt on the floor of the ocean.

"Third time's the charm, they do say."

"I'll be back, I swear it. I'll find you, wherever you may be." She brushed a chilled hand across his neck, wishing for what must have been the millionth time that he had gills. He could come with her, if he did.

He had too many questions. He couldn't pick one to ask, as all seemed equally pressing. Where was she going? What signs should he watch for? When could he expect her? What was she doing? How could he know if she was succeeding? Was she sure that she couldn't use any help?

She was gone before he could ask any of them. She took the dagger, and danced across the remaining beach. Her legs sprouted into a tail, a sight he was sure that he never would grow used to, and she dove in. He thought that he saw a head bob above the water, and an arm gesture in what was unmistakably blowing a kiss. He may have imagined it. Under the circumstances, it was more than likely. He kept the image as a memory, regardless of its questionable status of fact or fiction. He would need some memory to keep alive. She would come back, after all. She had before, and perhaps the third time she wouldn't leave.


	13. Headlines

**MRC Announces Planned Expansion**

Doctor Jesse Dalton's students found him on the beach that afternoon. He was sitting on the beach, looking out at the water. They had followed the trail of blood. Candy and Mako had almost expected the sight, when he had not returned with Aquiline. The students were less prepared. Jesse Dalton, "Doc," the son of an actor still known for starring as an older ladies' man, usually co-starring with his wife, Dr. Stacy Grey, was crying. He wasn't sobbing, but they could see traces of tears that lined his face. He had lost her again.

Candy instantly took action, firmly hushing all who thought to venture a comment that would only make him feel worse. One mutter of "more than one fish in the sea" was almost met by a very sharp retort, but Candy knew better. Explaining that there was only one remaining mermaid of that age was not at all likely to keep her professional and credible reputation as a journalist intact.

**Expansion Confirmed: Four New Centers Created, 67 Positions Available**

Everyone noticed that, after the day no one ever seemed to mention, the doctor was stranger than even before. The jokes were weaker, and he didn't always remember to laugh at his own comments. He was less tolerant of mistakes, often severely upbraiding someone for the smallest of slips. He was solitary to the point of being almost a recluse, and buried himself in a new project that would cure the sickest of mammals. Even these changes were not the most obvious.

**Anonymous Dancer Amazes Crowds at Sri Lanka Science Convention**

He had always loved the sea. For twenty-nine years, he had endured teasing about his preoccupation with waves and the shore. Now, what had been a fascination bordered on an obsession. The amount of time spent restlessly pacing the beach lessened gradually, until he spent only the briefest of times on the shore, staring at the water. She would come back. She had promised. He could almost hear phantom lips pressing against his, lips that tasted of salt. They would pull away after the briefest of contacts, but the sensation lasted longer than that.

**Survivors of Shipwreck Claim Mermaid Rescue**

He found a postcard in the mail. It could have been one of the many fan letters he received, praising work or asking about applications to one of the new MRC buildings that would open in two years. It showed a sunrise, one over the ocean. There was no caption, and there were only two short lines made in pictures. There was a girl added to a fish, a squid that was half woman, and a dagger between them. She had added a heart in the place where a concluding wish usually went, with nothing else. He knew what she meant, or at least he hoped he did.

**Giant Squid Tentacle Structure Analyzed by Dr. Jesse Dalton**

He presented his findings at a conference. He gave no specifics as to where he thought of the ideas. Not the most open-minded of scientists believed that a giant squid of that size would come into such shallow water. He wasn't about to explain that he had only been attacked through a few extremely unlikely circumstances. Instead, he said that he based the work on watching similar animals, such as octopi and smaller squid.

**Art Museum Finds Donation from Mystery Benefactor: Ancient Dagger Valued at Millions**

Jesse taught a few classes from the MRC. He would have gone to the university to lecture, but no administrator minded going through the paperwork obstacle course to approve courses being taught there. All colleges in the area sent students, and some from out of state participated through long-distance learning, with video cameras and voice recorders aimed at his lecture hall. He taught everything himself, except for sharks. For all matters involving sharks, he deferred to Mako. He would not claim to know more than Mako about those fish.

**Examination of Dagger Reveals Traces of Blood: DNA Testing Required**

Maddie's cooking show became almost primetime, a remarkable feat for such a show. She married a man she met in New York, one nothing like her last husband. He appeared on her show, shyly at first, with only the shortest of jokes. Soon, he became nearly as popular as her, and the change of name reflected his new importance in the show. _Maddie and Chad's Cooking Hour _was an odd mix of comedy, drama, and, of course, cooking that was broadcast in other countries. She gave the vast majority of the wealth to charity, and was never above catering for large crowds. There was one other difference about her show, one that set it apart from all others of its type. Maddie did all preparation and cleanup herself, accepting help only from Chad.

**Remote Island Receives Needed Delivery of Supplies from Mystery Woman**

Mako started a new division of the MRC Rescue Group, one tailored to sharks. He had a smaller group, with only three total making up the team. All three were majoring in marine biology with an emphasis on sharks, and Mako was an expert. There were fewer calls for rescuing a shark stuck in shallows. Beached sharks were almost guaranteed to be dead, but some stuck in tide pools or with a sand bar between them and the ocean could be saved. There were further protests by prejudiced citizens, but Jesse made it clear that the program had his complete confidence.

**Blood on Museum's Dagger Belongs to a Woman with Unclear Genetic Makeup**

Candy frowned at the headline for the latest edition of the paper. The _Ocean's Monthly _was a specialized newspaper, and the many topics inside were written by her staff of reporters. As editor-in-chief, she had full access to sources cited for articles. The scientists analyzing the blade could say nothing else for the moment, and Candy didn't bother to call Jesse. He was in bad enough shape. She already knew from her tell-tales in the MRC that he wasn't sleeping well, and the students were concerned. It was odd, in her opinion based on memories from college, for college students to worry someone was not sleeping enough. Teasing him about dates or lack of them was an old joke, but this was something completely different.

She did not know that Sophia brought out her copy, showing Jesse without knowing the significance, until she received a telephone call. He asked for a specific favor, and she pulled a few reporters' strings. Ten minutes later, a picture from the museum shot out of his fax machine, and he knew that the dagger had belonged to Lille.

**MRC Gala to Celebrate Opening of New Centers**

Dr. Jesse Dalton was the West Coast's most famous marine biologist. His papers of various topics were all translated into every language still spoken in the scientific world. He had inspired eight new courses at the local college. His dolphin-rescue program, with a whale-only team as well as Mako's group, was receiving donations from all over the world. Schoolteachers thought that such donations were an excellent class project, an idea publicized by commercials featuring Derek Dalton. Jesse was not told of his father's plan until a donator commented about the lovely commercial.

Jesse had organized the gala, or at least was said to have done so. Between Candy, Mako, Maddie, and his students, all he had to do was decide on a black or grey tie. Candy took care of all public relations and advertising, adding a complimentary article in the _Ocean's Monthly _along with a few other ads in major papers. Mako handled any especially indignant people after they reached their limits on tickets. Any more people would not fit within the boundaries of the property without falling off a bluff or into the road. Maddie insisted on providing all food. His students did everything else, running errands, decorating, scheduling research times, figuring out which people would be on call for which parts of the party, and badgering him to let them handle it.

The day of the gala, he barely knew what was going on. Sophia briefed him, detailing which members of the press would be there. One high-powered newspaper reporter, who once had taken an interview deftly to a mute girl, was on the roster of attendees, and a few cameras would be allowed in for one of the society shows. No matter how much the people at the MRC hated being stared at, free publicity was free publicity. There would be a band, with a prodigy of Howard Sage's directing. The venerable conductor had retired years ago, but would attend as a paying guest.

It was a beautiful June night, so the gala would be held mostly outside. This lessened the chance of any priceless experiments being irreparably broken, and the view was enough to make up for not being inside the famous center. The bluff overlooking the ocean featured a circular deck, framed with rose bushes transplanted from the home Jesse had grown up in. Tables were set up along one side, and the miniscule orchestra had a pavilion of its own. Everything was planned, down to who would keep out unwanted guests. Danielle would be in charge of that. She was the best at it, calming while firmly keeping the uninvited outside the gates.

Jesse withdrew from the crowd after a token round of small talk with about every guest. Few noticed his retreat to a less prickly part of the shrubbery. He was not nearly as embracing of crowds as he had been a few years ago. Now, he knew that most people only spoke to celebrities, or listened to what they said, to further their own dreams of being a celebrity. But if everybody only wanted to be a celebrity, they would only ignore each other. Being famous wasn't nearly as fun, once he thought it out.

He was just glad that most of the Plastic Wrap crowd had not been invited. The name had been coined by an annoyed Mako still fascinated with a few modern conveniences. His friends forgot Mako had ever been in any form but human until he was amazed by something they took for granted. The Plastic Wrap group was made of fanatic women, and a few men that took tabloid rumors seriously, who felt he needed a relationship, and was creating a fictitious girlfriend to escape commitment. Danielle took care of them. She was the primary driver of the teams, and he would miss her after she graduated. For now, she was on bouncer duty.

Jesse had not noticed anyone looking for him for the last half hour. He was probably safe, now. He was not at all ready to field the favored questions of reporters. Why wasn't he married? Did he have a girlfriend? Would he appear in a television show seeking the perfect mate for him? His only responses were no comment, yes, and never, respectively. He was thirty-one, and that did not mean he would never settle down. He still was waiting on a promise, but wondered how long was too long. After all, she hadn't sent anything but a postcard in more than two years.

"Ready for a final appearance?"

Jesse still was not used to how quietly Mako could move. "Not yet." For a person once only at ease as the center of attention among a large crowd, he was extremely introverted. Crowds made him feel almost claustrophobic, though he knew that wasn't the exact word for what he felt. "My dad came, and Stacy's new hobby is finding me a 'nice girl' to take home." He had tried to explain that he had a girlfriend, but the extenuating circumstances made giving all details difficult. "Were there any problems at the gate?"

"Just the usual," Mako assured him. Danielle had shared only one incident, as that woman had looked especially out of place. The carefully guarded purse was not a good sign, and Mako was watching for the woman Danielle mentioned. It would not be a good idea to ignore a warning. The woman had mentioned him by name, and had clutched a handbag so no one could look inside. She was another piece of Plastic Wrap, as the students had dubbed the many women who were trying to catch the eye of America's Most Eligible Bachelor.

The Plastic Wrap crowd fit their name. They were, with very few exceptions in the form of doctors who admired his work instead of money or fame, shallow, transparent, and very prone to clinging. It could take as long as an hour to get rid of one, as they had a single-minded tenacity that would be admirable, if not exasperating.

Mako didn't dwell on the odd woman, instead keeping a sharp lookout for a red dress and the woman inside it. "She'll be back, Jesse. It might take her awhile, but she would never live on without you." Mako meant his words to be comforting, but he still remembered a shark's way. The truth was brutal, but necessary to survival. "If she doesn't come back, she's probably dead," he clarified. Mako was not known for uplifting statements. Candy did all motivational speaking necessary for the couple. He gave tactlessly forward statements. It was no small wonder that she had a much more public position in the MRC.

"Thanks, Mako. You're a regular ray of radioactive sunshine." Jesse was used to abrupt pure truth by now, but some things he would just rather not consider. Candy hadn't sent him a copy of the article, but he had received a high-quality picture of a certain dagger in the mail. There were advantages to having a widely-known name. The blood was partly a woman's, but which one? There were only two choices, and both had blood that the scientists would term odd.

He looked through the crowds. There was a pair of possible Plastic Wrap, by their surveillance of the crowd, lack of a date or wedding bands, and the autograph books not entirely hidden in their small purses. His father was speaking to a director, and Stacy was in a conversation with Mako about how resuscitation techniques applied to sharks. He knew, or at least had a fairly certain guess, that this was so by the odd movements both were making. If they weren't demonstrating CPR, they had just invented an extremely bizarre series of dance steps.

He was only one step onto the circular area the dance was being held in before the two women he had seen proved their identity. They made several blatant insinuations, which he ignored as he gave each an autograph. Candy rescued him that time, escorting him away from two annoyed fans. Her stern glares kept them at bay, but they would strike again, given the chance.

"Just one autograph?" a particularly devoted fan pleaded.

"No," Candy snapped irritably, dispatching the last bit of Plastic Wrap with a firm frown. The fans never failed to annoy her. She never had been one for media attention and paparazzi, and these women could learn about a few basic principles such as modesty and restraint.

Candy's cell phone rang just after she left the crowd. With an apologetic glance met with a wave of his hand, she took the call. Few people had this number. Candy had two phones- one for general use and friends, and one to only be called in the case of emergencies or urgent stories.

"Good and bad news, Jesse." She snapped her phone shut after only a few terse words. "They analyzed the blood on that dagger a student showed you. The good news is that there's blood guessed to belong to a squid on it. The bad news is that there's blood that's partly fish."

"So, there's no way to know until the victor shows herself." He had thought it would be too easy, to simply know who had won. He had guessed that Aquiline would fight Sirene, but not that he would find such information.

"Exactly. I'm sorry to say it, but you'll just have to keep waiting." Candy checked her watch. "I need to get to the office for the rest of the facts. The blood is about two weeks old. It shouldn't be much longer." The suspense would be over, after two and a half years.

"I've gotten better at the waiting game, but I can't spend my whole life doing this." He had to move on sometime. There was always the possibility that she had died. There was a second more frightening one, but he still could block it from conscious thought. She had only agreed to the usual bargain because his life was in danger. She could have forced herself to love him, and lost that talent. "I think I'll go talk to Stacy now, and tell her that the girlfriend she insists is fictional should send news soon. Either way, I hope to have definite news within a month." He sounded like the person he had been years ago- fourteen, to be exact.

Candy watched him go. _I swear he had this learned years ago, _she thought, not trusting the crowds around her enough to speak out loud. A stray comment could cause all sorts of scandal, taken out of context. _Love doesn't follow time like he does. _She let out a surprised laugh at herself. She was being too philosophical. It was time to go find Mako. The music playing was quick, and there was nothing like a dance for shedding deep thoughts from the mind.


	14. Bassanio, Meet Portia

"Doctor Dalton? There's a caller for you on line one."

"Cindy, as I've been telling you for the last week and a half, call me Jesse. Just think how you would feel if I called you Ms. Maynard." Jesse hesitated before picking up the phone. "This isn't another reporter, is it?" It seemed that all calls he took were reporters. He was glad the MRC was popular, but having to devote so much time to administrative tasks seemed silly. Cindy was a brilliant secretary, but she took convention too seriously.

"It's Mrs. Dunes," Cindy called primly. Obviously, she thought that a friend, especially a female and married one, should not call at such a time. According to the schedule she had drawn up so industriously, personal calls could be taken in the evening hours.

"She wouldn't order your resignation for saying Candy. She'd probably recommend a raise. And Mako will respond to nothing that he terms too proper." He picked up the phone, cautiously pressing a series of buttons. The phone made a shrieking sound. He winced, hurriedly tapping in the correct code. He still was not used to a secure line.

"Jesse, you are harder to get in touch with than my father. The security wouldn't let me in the gate, as you are apparently busy today. Maddie had the same luck two days ago." Candy was typing as she talked, from the death rattle of keys that could only be her faithful Macintosh. "If you're in the lab, sleeping, or brooding by the shore, they won't let anyone onto the MRC's grounds."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that security on you is so protective that a college freshman wouldn't let Mako in. A ninety-seven pound weakling that could beat himself up with his pocket protector kept Mako out, and your secretary wouldn't let you take our page." Candy sounded irritated, but not that she and Mako had been denied access.

"I'll get a list of people to have unrestricted access out. I hadn't even thought of that. The new recruits are taking turns, and they don't know you yet. It will be in the gatehouses by tonight." He signed a requisition application with a small flourish, multi-tasking. It was the only way to leave time for research.

"That is not my point. I've been in Reykjavik for the last two weeks. How long has this new security been in place?"

"There was an assassination attempt two days after you left. It was necessary."

"Jesse, have you given this new set of hurdles any thought at all?"

"Yes, and Ricard was two feet away from getting a bullet in his head. There are crazy people out there." He couldn't understand why she was so exasperated. He had made the decision to keep everyone safe.

"You have recurring problems with Plastic Wrap, I know, but even known friends can't get into the MRC without all kinds of loopholes and identity checks."

"Yes, but-"

"No, Jesse, you don't understand. Even if she tried, Aquiline would not be able to find you. She'd be written off as some desperate fan, and you can't look through all of them. Someone tried to get into the last gala, and she knew enough to not just be some bit of Plastic Wrap. For tonight, put Mako or me at the gate."

"No one told me-"

"Save the wounded act, Jesse. For the last few months you've been acting more like your old self. I don't want you to be the person you were before Lille again. For tonight, Mako or I will help out." She knew he would think about what she was saying, but it was annoying that it took so long to make him see her point. For a smart man, he could be incredibly dense.

"Think about it, Einstein. I'll see you tonight." She refrained from slamming down the receiver. He already had the message, and doing that would only make him less likely to really consider what she had said. That would have to do. She did miss Aquiline, but wanted her to return for more reasons than one.

"No. Never. Not in a million years," Jesse said firmly. He was dressed for the gala in a black tuxedo and a white dress shirt, looking distrustfully at an offered tie. He was convinced that it was some kind of prank. He turned away, showing his refusal.

"Come on," Sophia said, waving the brilliant pink tie in front of his eyes. She was a fourth-year college student, but that didn't stop her from having her fun whenever circumstances allowed it. "It's the latest fashion. Manly men wear pink."

"Like Schwarzenegger?" he asked dubiously, naming the current governor of California. Only in California could such an actor be elected to that office. Schwarzenegger was known most widely for his role in, of all things, _The Terminator_. That did not seem to Jesse like qualifications to be the governor, but Reagan had done well for himself after switching to politics.

"Well, he doesn't wear pink," Sophia admitted, ever truthful. "But it really does look nice on a guy, and if this girlfriend of yours ever shows up. . ." Sophia let the thought trail away, but he did not look at all swayed. "You could wear a boring blue tie if you really want, but at least go with the pretty one." She dropped a blue tie into his hand, snatching away the drab blue-gray tie. Her choice was a cerulean blue, too pretty for his tastes. "Trust me. It's a woman's intuition, and any girl would rather see that."

He decided to accept the compromise, knowing he was lucky to be given something blue. Sophia had appointed herself wardrobe consultant, and was the girl most likely to be found braiding students' hair in elaborate styles that came naturally to her fingers. She was at least as stubborn as he was, though he had yet to outlast her on a fashion-related decision. Her mother was in Hollywood, and Sophia had been raised around such vital pieces of knowledge as which socks made the right impression. Those were socks with a discreet but interesting pattern, such as a muted plaid or faint stripes. Wild patterns were too loud, and plain colors were just boring, but the socks she had chosen were, as she assured him, just perfect. He didn't see how it would matter, but she insisted.

He made his way down the stairs, ignoring an elevator crammed with students doing last-minute errands. There were still scattered marks of brown, remnants of footprints that would be erased by nothing but retiling the many stairs, something he never got around to doing. The students never paid much attention, except for the few that had been in the van the night they had found a woman when looking for a dolphin. They thought she had cut her feet on sea urchins, and he was not about to dispute their guesses. His explanation of bandages falling off barely took care of a bloodless bed and then bloody stairs, but they didn't suspect anything from the stretched excuse. Mermaids with bleeding feet were hardly thought of as a common cause.

"The decorations are fine, Danielle. Ricard, I'm sure that your date will find the gate without you glancing out the window every two seconds. She_ is_ in rocket science. Michelle, the music selections are fine, and I'm sure the disc jockey will be excellent. Adam! If you and Sarah could stop fighting with the baguettes now, Maddie is less likely to chase you around the kitchen cursing at you in some language of her own invention as she waves whatever dessert is closest to hand." Slowly, he calmed the mob of nervous college students, just in time for the latest crisis as someone misplaced their copy of the guest list.

Jesse left them to their madness. He would simply find something more immersing to do. He made his token round at the gala, where several repeat guests, indignant Hollywood stars, political figures, and a few regular college students were anxious to get into the gala. Withdrawing to the side, he found himself in the sights of a direct frontal assault. There was nothing he could do to avoid the onslaught. He braced himself as his father approached, Stacy mercifully busy discussing a new form of x-rays that a visiting doctor advocated without reserve with Candy waiting to save Jesse from a dual attack. She liked the doctor, so it was hardly a sacrifice to have an excuse to speak to Dr. Grey.

"Jesse." His father looked uncomfortable for the briefest of moments at this rarely played role of father, but his actor's face smoothed into place after a _look _from Stacy. She had demanded to know why Jesse had sent away the last nice girl with some story about a woman, one that had not been introduced to either of his parents. "You can't just bury your head in your work, son. I don't quite know why you jilted that woman thirteen years ago, but it's time to move on."

"I'm waiting on someone else, and Sirene was just looking for fame." He glanced at the crowd. Mako was at the gate, Candy was still keeping Stacy occupied in a conversation, and Maddie had finally decided that she would grant her husband a dance, but only after stern instructions to the catering crew, from the forced serious looks on their faces. They were worse actors than she was. He would simply have to face his father without backup, facing questions that would be extremely hard to answer.

"No child of mine should have to wait so long. You're what- thirty-one?" He barely waited for a confirming nod. "Stacy waited the engagement out a few months, but you don't even have a ring. Why wait to propose? You'll be thirty-two in four weeks," he continued, ignoring Jesse's correction of "five." Derek never had been good with birthdays. "Can you at least give me a first name?"

"Aquiline." Jesse thought for a minute, trying to find an explanation. "You've met her before, about fourteen and a half years ago."

"Really? I don't recall any Aquiline's. There were a few names I forget, but they were all Betties and Sarahs and Ashleys, not something as odd as that." Derek's act faded. "Is there something you're not telling me? The media's much more open about this sort of thing, you know. The vice president's daughter was quite open about-"

"He's hardly homosexual," a familiar voice added to the conversation. Aquiline smiled at the open shock on Jesse's face, and wrapped an arm around his waist. The gesture felt right, and no one could object to such a basic form of public contact. Hollywood was not a place for Puritans. "At least, he hasn't told me." She laughed at the indignant expression on his face, and guessed correctly that he wasn't about to respond in the next few seconds.

"Good evening, Mr. Dalton," she said, easily filling in Jesse's silence as he tried to remember what a sentence was. "I'm Aquiline Eriksson." Her voice was light, what it would have been just before she met Jesse. Her eyes were a bright blue, like the ridiculously bright peacock's-tail-blue tie Jesse had refused to consider.

To his credit, Derek Dalton stared only for a few seconds. He could hardly be expected to recognize that voice as belonging to a mute girl. Her outfit didn't encourage the belief that she had been a maid. It was a gauzy creation, rippling white layered skirts lined with a single bit of periwinkle satin edging that matched Jesse's tie exactly. Sophia would later grin proudly at the appropriate look of her selection, and when she had her degree in cosmetic surgery specializing in babies born with cleft palates, she would choose just the right baby dress to compliment the sparse tufts of hair and wide eyes of a babe.

"Lille," he said finally.

Aquiline beamed. "That's a nickname, really, but I am glad you remember me. I hope we can talk again soon, but I really do need to catch up with Jesse. Come on, Bassanio, time to dance." She steered him away easily, leaving behind a suave actor who, for once, had nothing to say in response.

"Bassanio?" Jesse asked. That hardly seemed a compliment.

"To my Portia, yes," she responded, unperturbed. "_The Merchant of Venice _is one of his more interesting playsI just saved you from the rather unpleasant arrangement of answering your father's question, all through just a bit of quick thinking. I'm not quite the Portia in _Julius Caesar, _though, as I really would not cherish jabbing a dagger into my thigh to prove devotion, or committing suicide by eating fire. I hate fire."

"Huh?" he replied intelligently.

"You really need to brush up on your Shakespeare." The comment drew no obvious response. "Your musicals need some work as well, apparently. Don't they teach you anything?"

"Since when do mermaids know Shakespeare?" No one in the crowd noticed their approach yet, even if they would take anything serious from his remark.

"Why not?" she asked, spinning without warning. The light skirt billowed around her, falling back to rest against her legs regretfully as the blue ribbon only made the pattern her skirt took through the air clearer. She saw no reason to not read works by that playwright.

"Where would you get a book?"

"I was in a Filipino hospital for a few months- no telephones, don't look so offended, and cell phones do not work on remote islands. They had a small library of texts in English, mostly Shakespeare or medical journals. The small hospital was much nicer. No questions, no medical insurance, no annoying nurses. They just saw that I had a few medical concerns, and that was the end of it." She felt the first of glares target her from a few groups of girls that had an instant grudge against her. She had just walked in and taken the attention of the man rated "Hottest Bachelor of the Year" by four separate magazines, after all.

"What kind of medical concerns?" Something about her flippant mark wasn't quite convincing. She was a very good actress, but he had grown up knowing the acts of his father.

"A few stab wounds, a few interesting marks from the tentacles of a giant squid, half-amputated left arm, severe blood loss, and a concussion," she listed from memory, not about to dwell on that period. That knife was very sharp, as both she and Sirene knew. The sea witch was dead, for all her spells and curses. That blade had been made to undo bindings, and all traces that would ever be found of Sirene were a few shriveled pieces of flotsam and scars she had already left. The sea witch would never again haunt legend, though the tale of her last fight may one day be an epic of its own.

"You call those medical _concerns?"_

"That's enough on the topic. Come on, Jesse. Dance with me, already." She sighed melodramatically as the reporters, men holding video cameras and their microphone-on-a-stick assistants, and paparazzi surrounded them.

"Can you make a statement for us, Dr. Dalton?" one reporter asked, her pen poised over a notepad. She took a second look at his companion. "Miss Havfrue?"

Aquiline nodded. "I am known legally as Aquiline Eriksson, and I hope one joint statement would be sufficient?" She looked around the crowd with an air of regality, waiting for them to prepare themselves. "Jesse?" He was the famous one with experience. He could make a statement to the crowd, and the world. She could wait, however boring it was.

"Well, I really would rather dance with her. I've seen her once in the last thirteen years. We'll have a press conference tomorrow, at ten o'clock a.m. If that's all right with your schedule," he added hastily to Aquiline, before even noticing Candy's warning look from the crowd.

"We will both be there," she promised, dismissing them. "If there are no other interruptions, I think it's about time I danced with you." She was tired of reporters. She knew that life would him would involve many more, but tonight was not about everyone else. For that night, at least, she could be selfish and let the rest of the world just be jealous.

The dance floor didn't clear. People did leave space for the couple, as Aquiline was unpredictable in where she led. He had tried to lead, as all dance classes taught, but she couldn't follow the universal steps of a formal ballroom. Instead, she moved the way she felt like doing, encouraging him to do the same. She whirled happily, skirts fanning in multiple layers of white clouds edged in blue.

He followed her lead, embarrassed. After all, people were watching. He couldn't just make a fool out of himself. She would not leave the matter alone, but instead danced all the more wildly. He could see where the Greeks had found their descriptions of naiads, the spirits and nymphs of the water, from his own observance of motions. She was steam and ice and water all at once, never exactly one definable quantity. The wild dances described so carefully in mythology could not begin to do the entire picture justice, but he would say that it was the very picture of freedom.

When he finally joined in unrestrained dance, nothing felt awkward. Unlike the careful measured steps of the ballroom, he could do as he wished. For quite possibly the first time in his life, he didn't worry what impact this would have, on his father, his fans, or the center that he had founded and watched over like an overly zealous parent. Instead, he followed a music that only he and Aquiline seemed to hear.

He could not begin to guess how long they remained in that indefinite place of motion that was its own kind of music. When they stopped, his feet were sore. Dress shoes were not made for that type of movement. Belatedly, he realized his mistake. She would be hurting much worse.

"Your feet must be killing you."

"They've already murdered my calves, but my knees are giving them a bit of a fight," she quipped. "I'll be fine." Aquiline took an experimental step, wobbling only the normal amount in low-heeled blue shoes that matched her dress exactly. She had paid someone to airbrush them, but that was beside the point. She liked the shoes, even if she did have to wear nylons of some new medical polymer to keep them from becoming unattractively bloody. Leaking blood all over the dance floor was unusual.

"The party's just about over. Mako, Candy, and Maddie all said they wanted to see you."

"They can wait. Now, can't we leave this party and do a bit of real conversing?" She tapped a foot, mock-impatiently. She extended an arm delicately, waiting for him to take it. If they were to leave the gala together, there would be no doubt that she was with him.

"I would like nothing more." Arm in arm, the very image of a reserved couple, they left the gala with nods to important personages. Stacy and Candy smiled in varying degrees of triumph. Mako, a late-comer to the party, gave a smile that was more feral than anything else. Aquiline returned it. They understood each other, and neither would mourn the sea-witch who once had been innocent, before the Greeks called Helen the most beautiful woman alive. The door to the MRC closed behind them softly, but was an irrefutable sign that they were not to be disturbed. They had waited long enough.


	15. Sunrise

_I would like to take this moment to thank all people who have reviewed (and those that will- I'll still give you a cookie for late reviews, no matter how delayed, as I love reading them). This story would not have gotten nearly as far without several lucky souls who got to listen to me rant about plot, keep myself from killing off a very annoying character, try to find an ending, and battle the evil known as writer's block. There will be small changes made to earlier chapters, fixing grammar and small details, but nothing that will drastically alter the plot. These changes aren't quite finished, and won't be until I'm satisfied I have eliminated my many mess-ups. This story will be entered in a writing contest, so please let me know what parts are good/bad/need a bit of reworking._

* * *

At seven minutes past eight o'clock in the morning, Aquiline and Jesse found breakfast in the form of rapidly cooling pancakes sitting on the table, as well as a gathering of patient people. The entire residency of the MRC was crammed around the rectangular table that seated twelve at a stretch, somehow managing seventeen with ample room for two late guests. Fifteen were students, and Candy and Mako claimed the seats closest to the obviously reserved pair of empty chairs. It seemed that a quiet, solitary breakfast was out of the question. They had been given an entire night, and the patience of the surrounding people was now gone. Jesse knew he was lucky to not have crashed into a crowd on the stairs outside his door.

"So, how did you sleep?" a student prompted. A sea of blank faces did not betray the falsely androgynous voice, and it was too early for guessing games.

"Well." Aquiline gave away nothing. She sat at the table, choosing the chair closer to a window. She never had given buildings more than the smallest of tolerances, and liked to see the ocean. She took a short stack of pancakes from the serving dish, ignoring the imploring gazes of college students to hear some fact about what had happened. Candy and Mako were trying to appear more distant, and were almost succeeding.

"Don't pry," Candy said as prissily as she knew how. She could only keep a straight face for a moment before grinning. "That's my job." She was hopeless at poker, and part of that complete lack of luck came from her inability to maintain an expressionless face. Her smile the one time she had spread her hand of cards to reveal a royal flush had made all other players hurriedly withdraw from the round, leaving her to sulk as she raked in the small pile. She didn't even have to show a single card. Everyone else had backed out, knowing there was a reason the reporter conducted interviews by phone.

"No details," Jesse said, making his first comment of the morning to the assembly. "And I won't even give vague hints until I've had my coffee." They knew that to be true. He would not give anything but surliest of statements until he had consumed at least two cups of the caffeinated fluid, a habit from college days.

A brief round of introductions was ignored by Jesse as he distracted himself with his cup of coffee. He listened as she began a new explanation. Jesse didn't have all the details just yet. There was only so much two people could say in a night, and she had insisted on hearing about college life and exactly how the rescue program usually went. She had already decided that she was joining, and he had an idea that she would be even better than Mako at coaxing recalcitrant dolphins into a sling.

Sophia stopped her at one point, as Aquiline explained why she had used the name of Lille. According to her modified version of the past, to keep from going into a few details that could be regarded as supernatural, she had thought Lille was an English word. She gave the place of her birth as a small Scandinavian island, as Mako's story of a Filipino island would draw more questions. "Isn't Aquiline an adjective?" Sophia asked.

Aquiline nodded. "Hooked, sharp, or bent. Mer- my people use the first image of a babe as a name. My name is a different word, one that doesn't translate to your language." That got everyone's attention, except Mako. Aquiline pronounced it, four syllables that sounded like waves. No one else tried to say it. She continued her story, answering more questions as she went.

Mako smiled at a few parts, amused at the thought of a few created details. The thought of Sirene being a mean old aunt who needed a live-in companion, but couldn't afford a nurse, was not in itself funny. Aquiline's descriptions of changing diapers and bedpans as she fed gruel to her dear old aunt were. She stuck to her story unfailingly, bringing up new details that complimented her story when asked.

"How on earth did you end up in that tidal pool?" Danielle finally asked. From the sudden complete attention, everyone wanted to know the answer. Jesse hadn't breached the topic yet, still a bit shocked that she was back. Candy never had understood why that night had happened. Mako had relied only on guesses.

"A storm came faster than I had guessed, while I was trying to swim alone," she began carefully. This was too important to lie about, but using extended metaphors didn't quite count as lying. "I didn't think I could keep my head above water any longer, and all the dark water kept drawing me down until I could barely remember to breathe. I let a wave take me, and it popped me into the kelp. There was an air pocket, so I could breathe," she explained, the only lie in her story. Bringing up gills would not be a good idea. However trustworthy, no college student could keep such a secret without wanting proof, and proof was hard to keep hidden. They were research students, after all.

"There are black currents out there," Mako added, not speaking of water. "Sometimes, the only way out is to coast with the waves, let the ocean take you where it will, until you see a way out. Saving your strength for when it really matters is the only way to survive, when you're caught in something bigger than yourself."

No college student caught the second meaning to his words. Jesse, much more awake after two cups of thick coffee, understood. Candy agreed. Aquiline mouthed a thank-you while most eyes were still on Mako, and then quickly changed the subject to what students were majoring in. Today was going to be a good day, and Aquiline would not ruin that for anything.

"I don't see why I agreed to a press conference," Jesse grumbled as he was shooed unceremoniously from the kitchen. Neither he nor the newest resident of the MRC was to be allowed to do such chores. Aquiline only smiled, guessing that one of the changes he had made was to not be a morning person. That was a positive change, oddly enough. When she had first met him, he wasn't a morning, afternoon, evening, or night person. Confined grouchiness was much preferred.

"So we could dance without being crushed." She ran a brush through thick hair that Jesse compared to honey and gold before he ran out of metaphorical comparisons. He was working on being more poetic, but such things as amber and the golden eyes of a raptor escaped him still. She was impatient with her hair, not willing to let it slow her down. She had a press conference in four minutes.

"I hate these things." Jesse still was not pleased about the impending press conference.

"You used to love them," she reminded him. She ignored any attempts at a retort. She acknowledged his past, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "Besides, we'll have plenty of time to ourselves. Candy agreed to call me with an urgent message if it lasts more than an hour, so this will not possibly take the entire day. We'll be done long before your reservations for that overly fancy restaurant."

He knew that there was nothing else to do. The media demanded an explanation, and several tabloids were miffed that quite a few rumors were lost. The one reporter from last night had made the connection, and others were bound to repeat her bit of information. Soon, everyone would know that a maid that had disappeared thirteen years ago was back in the public's eye, and linked with a celebrity.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Aquiline said to the assembled reporters after learning the finer points of using an elevator. She still preferred the stairs, but the moving box was much faster. "I am glad that you could all make it today. My name is Aquiline Eriksson. I had to give a pseudonym those years ago because I could not yet speak English, and a very severe case of laryngitis made speaking dangerous." She had rehearsed a plausible explanation earlier, and Jesse knew all details of the lies she decided to tell. She did not like lying, but the truth would never work.

"We can't hear everyone at once, but we will try to answer your questions to the best of our ability," Jesse assured after the brief clamor of voices died down with a motion from him. "One at a time, please. Aquiline would like to keep some semblance of a private personal life, so any questions of an intimate nature will be disregarded without answer." Aquiline nodded in agreement. No stranger needed to know everything about her.

The questions were fired rapidly. They were mostly about her background. She was perfectly vague, listing a small island nation near Denmark She refused to acknowledge the place by name, saying that tourism would only make her family and friends distrustful. She had not seen her parents in years, as nothing but a private yacht could reach their homes. The island had no airstrip, after all, so reporters could hardly pop in for a visit. Aquiline answered questions easily, and made sure to pay equal attention to what kind of reporter asked each query. Surprises while being interviewed were not good, and no tabloid writer needed to be given basis for a rumor.

For once, Jesse was ignored. A few token questions were asked, but they were about Aquiline. He was surprised to find that he wasn't jealous. Being recognized by the media didn't matter to him as it once had. He was happier when not answering all sorts of questions about his personal life, and liked the occasional freedom of being an anonymous guest at parties. Blending into the background was not the gross fate he had imagined it would be, when he still thought studying was for anyone but him.

"Are you engaged, or do you plan to be?" The question came from the newspaper reporter who had interviewed Aquiline years ago. The woman smoothed back glossy black hair, waiting for a response. She was the first woman to reach the position of editor for an entire section of the _Sacramento Daily. _

Aquiline turned to Jesse. "Are we?"

Dr. Jesse Dalton, world-known for a cool distance during conferences and an imperturbable game face, actually blushed. "I was going to ask you tonight at dinner," he mumbled, pulling a small box out of his pocket. He took the ring from its velvet resting place. It wasn't his mother's gaudy ring, covered with enough diamonds to finance the purchase of an entire tropical island, as well as two-way transportation for the next twenty-three years. It was a slender silver band that proudly displayed a single blue-tinted diamond, simple but just right.

"I'll keep you from waiting, then. Of course I'll say yes. You can ask me then, if you like, and pretend you didn't hear what I just said." She ignored the video cameras, whose technicians were adjusting sound levels as they tried to get the perfect shot of the proposal. "When are you asking me?"

"Now." Waiting now seemed foolish, and this was as good a moment as any. He wasn't about to let any chance of Fate delaying them happen again. He, too, ignored all other people, including the entire staff of the MRC that was quickly exiting the building to congregate behind the quickly-made makeshift podium. Some statements were not nearly as effective when watched on television a few hours later, and they wanted to see this for themselves. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." She felt that there was some eloquent addition that should follow the response, but for the life of her couldn't think of what words would express how she felt. Instead, she just let the moment be, and everyone else ceased to exist for just that moment. It was a perfect minute, or second, or however long it lasted. He slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger, and the sound of cheers and a few knowing _I-told-you-so_'s did not reach either of them. Instead, they left the press conference, and a set of reporters sprinted out of the parking lot, determined to break the news first.

Aquiline laughed at the sight, but looked away after just a moment of the frenzied reporters dashing helter-skelter for their vehicles. She grabbed his arm, distracting him from staring into space with a smile wide enough to threaten his face being split into two happy portions. He hadn't known what he would do if she said no, but still had never really guessed that she would say yes, and that the entire saga would finally be over. The third time was the charm, and he knew that saying would have much more meaning than he had ever guessed six words could. Even those six were eclipsed by one, much more powerful. Yes. It meant everything could finally be happy, or at least had a chance to.

Jesse pressed the call button for the elevator. Aquiline grew bored of waiting after just a second. Calling that she would meet him on the top floor, she chose the stairs. Waiting had never been her favorite pastime, and she was more than a little claustrophobic. Large rooms were bad enough. She felt no need to confine herself in a tiny moving box, as she still thought of it. Aquiline didn't miss the scattered bloodstains on the stairs. _That wasn't quite the mark I had in mind, _she mused as she stood outside the opening elevator doors. She had known her way was faster.

Inside the room, Aquiline hummed as she took a new blue evening gown from her bag. Her emerald dress was already hanging in the closet, scales blending in easily. The small duffel bag, emblazoned with the logo of a surf shop, contained a limited wardrobe. She never had believed in excess. She noticed Jesse staring at her.

"What?" she asked, unused to such a thing as a stare.

"You still have that dress?"

"Yes. That's my mermaid's-scales. If I lose that, I'd have to wear one of the ridiculous things you call wetsuits." He only looked more confused. She would have to explain. "You know that I can change from legs to a tail, but only when I'm wearing that. I did a bit of experimentation on my own. The first time I changed without a set time by the witch, you had already broken the curse. I just didn't know it yet. I can change back and forth at will, just like anyone else in the sea, but I really wouldn't advise becoming a mermaid without scales."

"It's just so odd to think about. I'm a marine biologist. By everything I ever learned in a school, mermaids don't exist. I can't pretend that I understand what happens." He was frustrated. This made no sense. He had never asked for his life to be a fairy tale, but he knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'll run through the facts one more time, the things that don't make sense unless you know that magic exists. It does, but not in the form where anyone can really control it. The Seawitch thought that she could manipulate magic to her will, but it deserted her when she tried one last spell, and that's how I beat her. Mako was a shark for a couple hundred years, under an enchantment, and was freed when I reminded him of the old provisions for magic. 'Should an enchanted minion find a new companion, to keep him from all misdeeds, he can declare his service terminated,'" she recited. "It's sea customs. Maybe, in twenty years, I can teach you half of them."

"I think I'm smart enough to learn a few laws." He was indignant. He had earned a doctorate in complex specialized fields. He could handle a few customs from an ancient race, old enough to be termed primitive.

Aquiline rolled her eyes, a land-dwelling expression she had adapted. "Considering that forty percent are mer-speak phrases with no translation to any language you would know, it isn't a question of intelligence, unless you know the language they spoke in Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" He almost fell off his chair.

"No, not really." Aquiline grinned. "I just couldn't resist. I mean, people always fall for it. Atlantis tried indoor plumbing. The tunnels cut beneath the city were too deep, with not enough support, so the city fell into the ocean. No one really likes that explanation, of some plumber miscalculating the weight of the entire city. It's much less glamorous than some dramatic transformation to merfolk, or some great tragedy." That looked to be enough teasing for the moment- he still hadn't lost the explorer's wild-eyed look. Grabbing her dress and the duffel, she left the room.

"Where are you going?"

"The girls' dormitories," she called back, not slowing. "Don't you know that it's bad luck to see the bride-to-be before you have the official proposal dinner?" She was gone before he could realize that was a custom she had made up. It had a purpose. She needed to be caught up on the gossip, and Sophia definitely looked like her best source.

Dinner that night was, for lack of a better term, perfect. The roads had been almost clear of traffic, the chosen restaurant had not been leaked to rabid-with-eagerness paparazzi, the waiters were attentive, and the atmosphere of the quiet restaurant was the complete opposite of the cheerfully exuberant chaos of the MRC. Jesse had reserved one of the best booths in the place, of course, where the sounds of an orchestral recording were quiet but still perfectly audible. The setting could have been the middle of a football field in the midst of a game, and they wouldn't have noticed. Even twenty-odd sweaty American men lumbering about on top of the table ripping through dinner with their cleats while fighting for a lemon-shaped leather ball wouldn't distract them.

The ring glittered, a happy sparkling that held no hint of malice that a dagger had once shown. Instead, it was a promise of things to come. Aquiline looked at it frequently, turning her hand in the light to admire the stone. It could have been a length of grubby twine, and she would have granted it the same treatment. She had found a way, against all odds, to forge a real relationship with a human. Mermaids now had a chance to let a human catch a glimpse of a tail now and then. Mermaids would not fade completely into legend, not when Aquiline could help it. Forgetting helped no one, and not all myths should die into the background. She would stop encouragement short of letting scientists get too close with their testing. Mermaids had their secrets, after all.

He still could barely believe that she was sitting across from him in the small booth, sneaking glances at her ring when she thought he wasn't looking. She wore the blue dress he had glanced earlier. She had found a pair of blue ballet slippers in a store, which she had said were much easier on her feet. With a special liner in the bottom, they would leak no blood.

Jesse was tired of waiting for dessert. The main course had been wonderful, but the waiter had nervously explained that the sorbet was being re-made. He could think of much better things to do than wait. There was a dance floor, rarely used but not forbidden, and there was music. He felt that he could never feel the need to eat such things as tiramisu as long as he lived. He recognized the over-romanticism in the statement, but couldn't help himself. He wanted to do something. Waiting grew boring, and he had done that long enough.

"Dance with me?" she asked, just before he could.

"Doesn't it hurt?" The question had been buzzing through his mind, an irritating mosquito that was just out of reach. He couldn't imagine every step hurting. Hans Christian Anderson's descriptions of "dancing on daggers" were enough to make him feel queasy just thinking of such a sensation.

"Not as much as staying away from something I love. Avoiding pain by not doing something that's a part of a person is a foolish idea. You might as well try to stop breathing. That's why mermaids are graceful. If every step hurts a little, you watch every motion without even paying attention, making the motions a little more fluid. Pain's a part of life." She paused, smiling wryly. "And I thought I wouldn't be giving any lectures today. Philosophy can wait."

"Point taken." He had never thought of the pain in such a way, a gift rather than a curse. "I'll just have to go swimming with you sometime." It wasn't really the same, but he couldn't think of an equivalent. He stood, dessert forgotten. The bars of some classical piece he might name after twenty-nine guesses were beginning.

"I won't let you drown," she promised, teasing to cover the more serious tones. She knew from reliable sources that he had not been more than ankle-deep in the ocean since he was seventeen. "Just think what an odd way to end this little fairy tale of ours that would be." Mermaid's loves did not drown, even if she wasn't available. Once a human was in the family, the entire family would come to his aid. He didn't have to know that just yet- the in-laws could come another day. They would be quite the sight for a marine biologist still struggling with squids and mermaids he had witnessed with his own eyes.

"Is it really a fairy tale? There hasn't been a single fairy."

Aquiline shrugged. "Whatever it is, I like this one better than the original." Dessert finally arrived. Neither she nor Jesse glanced at it. "Let's dance, already, before the orchestra packs up to leave." A new song started, one that he would recognize as George Frederic Handel's _Water Music._

Aquiline doubted she could stop smiling if she tried. For once, a tale of a mermaid and a man would have a happy ending. She felt that she could fly, if she could ever think of leaving the dance floor. Clouds may be softer on the feet, but they rarely had an orchestra to listen to as they danced. They left the instant the song was over, retreating to his car as they laughed like a pair of teenagers sneaking back from a successful date just a few minutes past curfew. They only laughed harder as a pair of paparazzi snapped pictures furiously, with the air of guerilla fighters as they competed for better shots. Their car roared out of the parking lot, leaving behind a trail of dust.

The car brought them to a beach, and the driver gave just enough attention to stay in the lane on the right side of the road. Neither was paying much attention to the road, but the late hour could have contributed to the success of their drive. Being drunk on sheer happiness is a dangerous thing, far more intoxicating that any substance produced in a factory or brewery. However long the drive took, with invented turns and a half-tour, they reached the beach before sunrise.

"Every time I watch the sun rise, you disappear," he said, half to her and half to the sun. Speaking to the sun did not sound too far-fetched, as speaking to a mermaid was second nature. His logical system of thinking was still adapting to the concrete realization that mermaids and magic existed.

Aquiline only smiled. "Well, in my opinion, it's a much better curfew than midnight. And I never once have left you with an oversized pumpkin." She watched the waves from where she stood on the cliff. A few familiar faces, as well as ones that had not been seen in centuries, appeared above the waves. Aquiline waved and blew a few kisses to her relatives, half of them merfolk she had never met.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said in response to the question he hadn't asked. She would get rid of this doubt as quickly as possible. "You can't be rid of me that easily. We're engaged, remember? That means we get to come up with a lovely story to explain why my family can't come."

"Why can't they come?" he asked with a grin. "They can have legs at will, according to the old spells Mako was telling me about. There may be more of a problem about how they lived on an island in the middle of the Pacific."

"I'm from around Scandinavia, remember?" she reminded him. "My aunt from Anderson's story was from around there, too. I have more than enough international relatives to compensate." She glanced away from the water for a second. "You do know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Yes, and I wouldn't miss it for the world." He watched the sun rise fully above the horizon, leaving a golden streak across the water. "Is this the end, then, Aquiline- where we slip into the happily ever after, never to be seen again?"

"This is a sunrise, remember? Sunrises mean another day is starting." She caught his knowing look. "Well, this one is, no matter how foolishly philosophical I sound, and you can quote me on that. We're not riding off into the sunset just yet."


End file.
